ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction
by Pottergirl134
Summary: Written in the points of view of four Ravenclaw students - Sean and Caiti O'Connell, Evelyn O'Sullivan, and Marlowe Finnegan - ELIXR is the story of a Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, friendships verging on romance, and the earliest signs of a new rising dark age. This story uses no canon characters and is set in 2017-2018.
1. The Start of Term Feast

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

One. The Start of Term Feast

Caiti O'Connell had been on the last cart from Hogsmeade station. She followed her cart-mates, a group of third year Hufflepuff girls, into the Great Hall, already crowded with most of the students, and walked down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, scanning for Evelyn's red-haired head. She was easiest to spot.

Caiti saw her and the others seated midway down the long table, clustered together on the bench, and she headed for them. Evelyn turned her head when she spotted her coming.

"_There _you are," she said, a smile brightening her face and widening her blue eyes. She brushed her long, thick red hair out of her face, trying and failing to tuck it behind her ear. When she spoke, the two boys she was with turned around too. Marlowe Finnegan, his dark curls unkempt, and his brown eyes alive, as always, above a straight nose and a mischievous, crooked smile that dimpled only on one side, patted the open seat next to him. Caiti stepped her legs over to sit using his shoulder as a balance point.

"That's gonna cost you a kiss," Marlowe joked.

Caiti just rolled her eyes and said, "Nice try." Marlowe had made it his personal mission to get Caiti to kiss him the moment he had found out, at the start of his second year, that his best friend Sean's little sister was starting at Hogwarts. It had begun as a joke meant to annoy his friend, but somewhere along the line - though he would never admit it - everyone, even Caiti, had realized he'd grown the tiniest bit serious.

The other boy, seated across the table next to Evelyn, was Sean. He had the same pink toned skin, dirty blonde hair, and warm brown eyes as his little sister. Only one year older, he and Caiti had always been close. So close in fact, that Caiti had failed to make any real friends in her own year when she came to Hogwarts, and had been hanging around with Sean and his friends for the past five years. But that didn't stop Sean from parenting her occasionally . Just now he looked relieved. What happened to you?" he asked. "I thought you were right behind us.

Caiti had been sitting with them on the train, after all. "Tripped," she said. "Spilt a lot of stuff into the corridor and had to pick it up, but everyone was trying to walk through so it wasn't easy."

She'd always been shockingly clumsy, nothing like Sean who was, in her opinion, good at everything: top or almost in all his classes, outstanding on the Quidditch field where he played keeper, kind, and handsome to boot. He may have been her brother, but she wasn't so blinded by sibling rivalry as to miss that he was the school's golden boy, especially now that he was in his seventh year. The only thing Sean didn't have was a girlfriend, but that was only because he and Evelyn were either too stupid to see that they were in love with each other, or otherwise too stubborn to admit it. They were the only ones who hadn't realized it yet.

"Well you should have told us to wait," Sean said.

She shrugged. "Didn't realize I'd fall so far behind. You were already gone. Got some sweet bruises though, when I fell," she grinned, pulling up the sleeves of her robes to show them the two matching bruises already blossoming a dark rose color on her elbows.

Marlowe leaned forward to look around her forearms and see. "Nice!" he held up a hand for a high five. She smacked his hand hard, grinning with the tip of her tongue pinched between her front teeth. Evelyn just shook her head.

The doors to the Great Hall opened again and Professor Munslow, the Herbology teacher, entered carrying the old, ratty Sorting Hat. He led the new crop of first years down the aisle. A couple of them, judging by the way the fronts of their robes were dripping wet and the fact that they were all giggling, seemed to have either been splashing each other on their traditional boat ride, or else had decided it might be fun to dive into the lake.

Caiti leaned back to see past the heads of the people in front of her. "What d'you reckon that boy on the end's a Ravenclaw?" she whispered. It had been a little game of theirs for the past few years, to guess at which students would end up in which house.

"Nah, he's a Hufflepuff," Marlowe decided, eyeing the boy.

They hushed up when the hat, now sat on the stool, began to sing, but Caiti kept scanning the first years, trying to guess who her fellow Ravenclaws were going to be.

_Welcome my dear children_

_To these hallowed learning halls_

_Where we'll teach you what we're able_

_Witness triumphs and some falls.  
_

_Here you'll find a family,_

_At a table in this room._

_Here you'll find your future,_

_Not just what but with whom._

_Welcome newfound Gryffindors,_

_The bravest of the lot._

_Let your heart and courage guide you,_

_But your eager brashness not._

_Welcome our new Ravenclaws,_

_The bright and witty ones,_

_Keep your head and mind connected,_

_But don't forget your fun._

_Welcome fresh new Hufflepuffs,_

_A steady, loyal bunch,_

_Your patient way will serve you,_

_If you stand up to the punch._

_And welcome brand new Slytherins,_

_Those sly and driven folk,_

_Your cunning is your blessing,_

_Just don't use it to provoke._

_Yes welcome our new students,_

_We're happy that you're here,_

_Now let's put me on your head,_

_You have nothing to fear._

_All I do is look inside you,_

_Examine you a bit,_

_Then I shout out to all gathered,_

_And tell you where you'll fit._

Everyone in the hall broke into a huge, thunderous applause, but Caiti could have sworn she heard the hat give a great laugh, one single "HA!" It's song this year, had been vaguely more critical than usual, although not quite unkind. And the end, a bit sarcastic, perhaps meant to poke fun at the first years who were terrified at the idea of being put in the wrong house - as though that were possible. She wondered if, perhaps, after all these hundreds of years, the hat had finally gotten bored and thought maybe this song could spice things up a bit.

The applause died down and everyone fell quiet as Professor Munslow unrolled the scroll he was holding and called out the first name: "Allan, Justin."

"Gryffindor, no question," said Sean confidently. The boy, a stocky little thing with sandy brown hair sat on the stool, legs straddling it with his feet hooked around the back of the legs.

Sure enough, the hat shouted out "GRYFFINDOR!" and the corresponding table erupted in cheers as they welcomed their first new student.

Between the four of them, someone always seemed to guess right, and they were often in agreeance. They'd become pretty adept at guessing over the last few years. It was all in the facial expression, the body language, how they held their hands, how they interacted with people. Each house had it's major traits, big things, shared by many people, the kinds of traits that people wore on their sleeve. Caiti thought that, if the hat ever decided it was tired of it's job, she and her friends could take over without much of a ripple in the process.

No one was named a Ravenclaw until "Duris, Euan," was called up to the stool - the boy who'd been standing on the end that Caiti had guessed right away. "Told ya," she shouted at Marlowe over the applause of her own table.

He stuck his tongue out at her, reaching out to Euan for a high five as he passed them, going to take a seat a ways down.

Awhile later, "Swenson, Piper," was greeted with a huge applause all around when she was made a Gryffindor, because anyone who had ever been to the hospital wing already knew her. Piper was the nurse's daughter. Her mother, Raigan, had started at the school nurse fresh out of Hogwarts and, because she was working with people who had been her peers, had began on a first name basis with the students and never transitioned out of it. She was probably the most well-liked member of the faculty and staff. Piper was like one of their own, especially to the older students who had watched her grow up.

In the end, Ravenclaw house had welcomed around a dozen new students, including Marlowe's younger brother, Elliot, much to Marlowe's chagrin. "It's not that I don't want him there," he explained, "It's just that he's going to want to follow me around."

"Well at least I can hang out with him next year when you all leave me," Caiti said, raising her eyebrows.

Once the sorting hat had been cleared away, the headmaster, Professor Osset, stood up to make the usual start of term announcements.

"Our Sorting Hat has so kindly already welcomed all our new students. However, I hope you won't mind if I'm a bit redundant and say... welcome, everyone - old and new. We are all gathered here, fresh from a break, ready for another year. I hope you have had as nice a time as I have but that you, like me, were ready to be back in this place, all of us together." He smiled around at everyone.

Professor Osset was young for a headmaster, although not necessarily young in age. He was maybe in his late fifties, his salt and pepper hair sitting atop kindly, wizened skin - age lines not from frowning, but from smiling. He had very light, grey eyes, piercing when he was angry or wanted to make something very clear, but otherwise warm and patient. Caiti had never spoken with him personally, but she had an idea that she liked him.

"I have a few short announcements which I would like to make now, before we all become too absorbed in our food and thoughts of our nice comfortable beds. First, I remind you that the forest is forbidden to _all_ students. Second, each of your prefects has been supplied with a list of banned objects of which there are too many to read just now, but feel free to consult as necessary."

He paused here, but Caiti could tell he wasn't finished. When he began again, his tone was different. "As you may or may not know, every five years, the Triwizard Tournament is held at one of the three major, magical schools in Europe: Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Durmstrang Institute, and of course, our own Hogwarts."

At this, Marlowe turned to Sean excitedly. Last time around, they had been second years, and the tournament had been hosted at Durmstrang so they had had to settle for news clippings and radio coverage to keep updated. It hadn't taken long for either of them to realize that the next time the tournament came around, they would be seventeen and old enough to enter.

"This year," Professor Osset was saying, "I am delighted to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting the tournament." Here he began a short diatribe on the history of the tournament, for those who were unfamiliar, but Caiti heard next to none of it, because the boys had erupted with talk. They weren't the only ones. All over, excited whispering had broken out on top of the headmaster's speech.

"Our guests will be arriving early in October and then, our champions will be chosen. One among you will have the opportunity to bring a great honor to this school." He looked at each table in turn, and Caiti could feel Marlowe swelling with preemptive pride behind her.

"It is also my great pleasure to announce that, after much deliberation, we have decided that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will occur as usual" - he paused to wait out the great applause that had broken out across the room. "While we normally would not hold both competitions within the same academic year, we decided that, for the sake of several seventh years who we know are interested in being scouted for professional teams, we had better give them that final chance to be seen. I'll say no more, just now, but look out for more information regarding quidditch and the tournament in the coming weeks, especially those students who are of age and considering putting forth their names as champion. But now, let us eat, and may I say one more time, welcome to all."

He sat down, and instantly the golden plates filled with all kinds of food: boiled potatoes, a large and juicy roast, peas, beef wellington, shepherd's pie, and, looking out of place though not unwelcome, a gigantic bowl of applesauce. Neither Marlowe or Sean reached for food immediately, much to Caiti's surprise. Slowly, she reached for the serving fork and passed herself a large slice of the roast sitting in front of her, followed by a healthy spoonful of peas. She looked between the two of them suspiciously. It was like they were communicating without words, their eyes glued to each other across the table, alight.

Evelyn poked Sean in the side. "Eat, idiot," she said. "Stop ogling him like you've just taken a love potion."

Caiti snorted into her pumpkin juice and Evelyn shot her a grin.

Slowly, the boys began to move again. Marlowe started shaking his head. Caiti frowned at him and spooned some peas onto his plate too. "You aren't _really _thinking of entering are you?" she asked.

"What do you mean we aren't _really _thinking of entering. Have you listened to a thing I've said for the last five years, Caiti?"

She and Evelyn eyed each other across the table. Evelyn swallowed her food and said, "Well, it's rather dangerous isn't it? Hadn't you better think about it first?"

"Oh we've thought about it," said Sean, almost dreamily. "A thousand galleons. Eternal glory and honor for your school and your house. Yeah, we've thought about it."

"And did you think about the tasks at all," Evelyn continued. "Or did you conveniently block that part out?"

"Nice try, Ev," said Marlowe. "My name's going in that cup the second the fire's lit, dangerous or not." He turned to Sean, slicing up the meat he'd just fed onto his plate. "One of us _has _to get chosen," he said.

"_Has _to," agreed Sean.

"What d'you think the tasks'll be?" Marlowe asked. While Sean was thinking, Marlowe, finally, began shoveling food into his mouth at a high rate of speed. Caiti watched him, half amused, half appalled, taking one small, dainty bite of her own applesauce.

"There's always something with some kind of a creature, like dragons or manticores or something," Sean said through a mouthful of food.

Marlowe had only just begun to respond when a lanky brunette in bright red lipstick came sliding onto the bench next to him, knocking into his shoulder. "Hi Marlowe!" she said as he was sent toppling over, practically into Caiti's lap. Caiti squeaked and spilled peas off her spoon all over Marlowe and her robes. Once he'd straightened up, he made eye contact with Caiti and they both burst out laughing.

The girl's name was Amelia, a Ravenclaw in Caiti's year who had had a thing for Marlowe for the last year, so far unreturned. By the look on Amelia's face, it was clear that knocking Marlowe into the girl she knew he liked and giving them a reason to laugh together had not been the effect she was going for. "How was your summer?" she asked, ignoring the fact that he had ignored her.

"Oh," said Marlowe, still grinning. "Hey Amelia. It was alright. How was yours?" He glanced back at Caiti with his eyes widening just for a second as if to say HELP.

"Oh it was good. I didn't do all that much. I mean I guess we did go on Holiday to France for a few weeks and my sister got married and I was the maid of honor. But hey, I thought I sent you an invite, asking you to be my plus one. Didn't you ever get it?"

Caiti took a very long and deep pretend sip from her nearly empty cup, only aiming to hide her face inside it until she could control it again. She had heard, in depth, about Marlowe's dilemma with the wedding. Amelia had not sent just one letter asking him to come, but twenty six, all of which he had ignored. Caiti had tried to get him to just go, but he had been terrified that he would come home roped into a long-term, exclusive relationship with a sixty year plan.

"A wedding invite?" said Marlowe evasively. "Hm, I don't think I ever saw one."

"Funny," said Amelia. "I remember sending it. Oh well. Hey, did you hear there's a ball as part of this tournament? I heard someone talking about it down at the other end of the table. Who d'you think you'll ask?"

"I dunno yet," he said, taking a particularly large bite of food so that he would not have to elaborate.

"You're going to enter aren't you?" she continued, unswayed.

He nodded, mouth still full of beef wellington.

"Thought so. You'll probably get it, don't you think? I think you should get it."

He forced a smile, swallowed hard and said, "Thanks," without looking at her.

Amelia continued to rattle on, needing next to nothing in return to keep the conversation going. It wasn't until the golden plates cleared themselves and appeared refilled with dessert that she decided she had better get back to where she'd been sitting.

Caiti looked as relieved as Marlowe, if not more. "Ev, why can't I live with the seventh years? She is honestly a nightmare. They all are." Caiti's class was gossipy. The other girls had cliqued quickly in their first year, always trying to act older than they were. Caiti wanted no part of it.

"You know I really thought ignoring those letters would sour her on me," mused Marlowe, helping himself to a bit of treacle tart.

"If Amelia wants something, she doesn't give up till she's got it," said Caiti. "You're gonna have to do a lot worse than that to get rid of her. The little smirk on Evelyn's face showed she agreed.

"What if I kissed you in front of her?" he said, giving Caiti a cheeky grin.

Sean pretended he hadn't heard that and started saying something loudly to Evelyn about how great the food was. He'd always been uncomfortable about anyone's being interested in Caiti romantically. She was under the impression that he and Marlowe had never spoken about the fact of Marlowe's changed intentions. Marlowe had probably heard enough from Sean about Theo, Caiti's now ex-boyfriend, not to bring it up. Caiti and Theo had been together almost two years. Sean had never trusted him.

Just now, Caiti gave Marlowe an exasperated look from under her eyelashes, letting out a short sigh through her nose. "Stop," she said.

"Only kidding, only kidding," he assured her, smiling brightly. "But really, if you've got any ideas, send them my way."

When the golden plates had cleared again, the students happily stuffed and ready for nice warm beds, Professor Osset stood one last time. "If our Prefects would please help our first years find their dormitories, I think it's time for us all to tuck ourselves into our beds as I know you'll want to be well-rested for your first classes tomorrow. Goodnight to all, and may I say just once more: welcome and welcome back."

At this, Sean, who was Head Boy, and Evelyn, who was a Prefect, hurried off to lead the first years up to Ravenclaw tower, leaving Caiti and Marlowe to make their way up alone.

"You think they kept the Quidditch cup for you?" Caiti asked him once they had begun their walk up the marble staircase outside the entrance hall.

"I don't know if it was _only _for me," he said. "I am glad they kept it though. Would've been difficult to play for anyone without playing this year." Marlowe was captain of the Ravenclaw team and had been playing beater since he was a second year. He'd been talking about playing quidditch professionally for years and Caiti knew he hadn't been able to see far enough past it to come up with any other ideas. He'd have been perfectly capable of almost anything. Marlowe was much more intelligent than he let on. But quidditch, Caiti knew, was what he wanted.

"Well I'd be shocked if you weren't a pretty strong support for keeping it going," she said. "You still think you'd enter the tournament though? Wouldn't that be a lot with Quidditch and everything else?"

She glanced up at him. Marlowe was nearly a foot taller than tiny, little Caiti, who had apparently not inherited height from either of her parents, both of whom, like her brother, were tall.

"Don't see why not," he said. "I won't get it anyway."

"You don't know that though," she argued.

Marlowe looped one arm easily over Caiti's shoulders without looking at her. "Nah, I do. Your brother'll get it. Just watch."

Caiti didn't say anything, but she thought he was probably right.


	2. The First Day Back

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Two. The First Day Back

"Hey Ev," said Sean, running to catch up with Evelyn on her way out of Ravenclaw tower. She stopped and turned around, red hair swishing behind her. "Going to breakfast?" he asked, jogging into a walk when he'd about reached her.

She nodded. Her hands, he noticed, were tucked into the sleeves of her robes, the extra fabric at the end balled up inside her fists. Evelyn was always cold and her hands were always freezing to the touch. "Come with," she said.

"Planning on it," he agreed. They headed out of the room and into the drafty hallway where Evelyn sidled closer to Sean.

"Feels weird to be back, doesn't it? As seventh years?" she said.

"Yeah, a bit. It's weird that thinking about the future actually means the future now and not just... next year."

"I feel old. And humongous," said Evelyn.

"Hardly," laughed Sean. Evelyn was definitely much taller than his sister, Caiti, but she was not humongous in any way. Except perhaps her hair. She a slight little frame, wispy arms and long, thin fingers. Her hair, though, dark orangey red, was thick and full, waves reaching past her mid back.

They had to pause in the next corridor while a pack of chattering ghosts streamed through one wall, across the hallway, and into the wall opposite. Sean waved to the Grey Lady, passing near them. She gave a wry smile and continued in silence.

Moving ahead again, Evelyn sneezed, three times in quick succession. "Shoot, I'm probably getting sick again," she said. She got a cold within the first three days of school every year without fail.

"Don't say it and it's not true," said Sean. "Evelyn, you're going to be as healthy as can be."

She laughed. "Okay, we'll go with that." She sneezed again.

They entered the great hall and found Marlowe already there, looking over his new class schedule. Caiti rarely made it to breakfast until the last minute. She was the opposite of a morning person.

"What've you got today?" Sean asked him, pulling his own schedule out of his bag to compare.

"Care of Magical Creatures this morning," he said. Sean nodded, tapping the same class on his own paper. "Then Transfiguration and after lunch is Potions. God, Caiti's going to have to help me with that." Much unlike Sean, who had dropped potions at the first chance, Caiti loved potion-making. It was by far her best subject. She had a knack for it that no one else he knew possessed. Sean's favorite class had always been Transfiguration, with Ancient Runes a close second.

Sean looked down at the plate he had neglected to find it was already full of food. Evelyn had been scooping eggs and bacon and slices of tomato onto it for him. "Oh, thanks," he said.

She shrugged. "You boys keep forgetting to eat. It makes me nervous."

Sean gave her a dry smile, but stabbed a bit of tomato onto his fork anyway.

"No Defense Against the Dark Arts till Wednesday," Marlowe said glumly, still peering over his schedule.

Evelyn began to pull out her own schedule, neatly preserved inside her folder and color coded.

"Divination this morning," she began. "Then Transfiguration," she looked up at them, signalling that they'd all be together. "And then Potions," she said, with a second nod to Marlowe. She set the schedule down next to her and began spreading jam on her toast.

Just then, a swarm of owls came flying into the room. Marlowe peered up and said, "Well, let's see what I forgot this year." Sure enough, a large brown owl swooped down, dropping a lumpy, brown-papered package into his lap. The bird landed on the table, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers, and began sipping pumpkin juice from Marlowe's cup.

He ripped open the side of the package and peered inside. "Mm. Dress robes."

Back in the common room that evening, Evelyn brought all her books downstairs with the intention of getting a head start on her homework, but when she sat down by Sean, the couch was just so comfortable and his shoulder was so conveniently right next to her and she was so tired so she let her bag, bursting full with work already, slide onto the floor. She tucked her feet up onto the cushions, tipped her head onto his shoulder, and murmured a sleepy "Hi."

Sean smiled and extracted his arm from between them so he could replace it around her shoulders. "Hi," he said back.

"I think I am getting sick," she told him. "I just can't-" she paused here to yawn deeply - "can't stay awake. And my nose is getting a little runny." She sniffed. Absent-mindedly, Sean began to play with her hair.

"You think so?" he asked. "You could always go to the hospital wing and get a pepperup potion."

"Maybe tomorrow," she said. "I'm comfortable here." Her eyes fell shut. For a few minutes, Sean continued reading what he'd been working on before Evelyn had come down, a complex theory on conjuring objects from thin air. He had to turn the pages awkwardly with his left hand.

"N.E.W.T. year is going to suck isn't it?" he said after a few minutes during which he read and reread the same paragraph four times before he began to understand it.

Evelyn peeked up slightly to see what he was reading. "Yeah I think you're right." She settled back into his shoulder. "That's why I'm in no hurry to start."

"Aw, come on Ev, that's not like you," he said.

"Just don't feel good," she mumbled into his shoulder. She twisted her legs underneath her, sliding her cheek down from his shoulder to his chest to his lap. Her hair, staticky from close contact with Sean's shirt, spread all over the pages of his book. He smiled and shook his head, took the book out from under her hair, shut it, and dropped it on the floor next to him.

"Sure you don't want me to take you up to the hospital wing now? You'll feel better."

"Mm-mm," she murmured. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't feel good, but if Evelyn was being honest with herself, she would have had to admit that she didn't want to go because she liked when Sean took care of her. She liked when he let her come up to the boys dorms, lying side by side in his bed and he drew the curtains around them, cast the Muffliato charm so that no one would hear them talking, and it was just the two of them, for once.

Fresh off the summer holidays, Evelyn wasn't keen on time spent away from her best friend. She had missed him this summer, more than ever before. And she knew why too, though she'd never say it. The thought of messing up what they had terrified her. Perhaps more than anything. She had even guessed that her boggart might now show some kind of an alternate reality in which she and Sean did not speak to each other, could not look each other in the eye.

Sean smoothed his hand over her hair. "Alright, then what can I do to help?" he asked.

Evelyn just curled up tighter and said nothing, but after a minute, she turned her head and peeked up at him.

Sean felt a jolt in his stomach. Something about her eyes, bright blue and clear with flecks of gold around her pupil, did something to him every time.

"Come with me," he said, frowning in thought. "I've got an idea."

Evelyn sat up slowly and Sean offered both hands to pull her up off the couch. When she was up, he picked up his books first, then slung her bag over his shoulder with a low "uff" - it was very heavy - and together, they walked up the stairs to the boys dormitories.

Evelyn sneezed a few times at the top of the stairs. "Sorry," she said.

Sean just shook his head. "Bless you," he said, patting her upper back with his kind-of-free right hand.

They entered his room and Evelyn wasted no time in taking a seat on his bed while Sean put their things down, stacked on top of his trunk. He set his wand on the bedside table, and grabbed a tissue box from inside the cupboard door. "Start with this," he said, handing it to her. "And I'll be right back."

Evelyn pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose. Her eyes were watery and irritated. She tossed the tissue in the bin and fell backwards on the bed, feet still on the floor.

Just then, Marlowe walked in. She knew by his laugh - it could not have been anyone else. "Oh, hey Ev," he said with little to no surprise in his voice. Evelyn's presence in the boy's dormitory was so common it was almost expected. "Where's Sean?"

Evelyn tossed her hands up as if to say "Who knows?" and let them drop again over her head. But Sean walked back in from the bathroom just after, answering Marlowe's question.

"Hey Marlowe," he said. He was holding a rag, folded over twice and soaked with water. "For your head," he said, reaching Evelyn. "It's what my mum always did."

She smiled and murmured her thanks, kicked off her shoes and curled up on the bed. Sean laid the rag over her forehead.

Marlowe looked appalled. "God, you two are disgusting." He grabbed his potions book from his trunk and hurried back out.

After pulling the curtains shut around the bed, Sean murmured something with a flick of his wand and lay down next to her on his back ankles crossed. Evelyn wriggled her hand towards his, grabbed it, and gave it a small squeeze. "Thanks, Sean. Really. You're the best friend ever." She shut her eyes slowly beginning to let her hand slip back out until she realized Sean was still holding on.

"Same to you," he said. He lay there with her until she fell asleep, and then, because he really was worried about his course load this year, he reached around the deep sapphire hangings to his nightstand for the book he'd been reading and continued by wand light.

Back out in the common room, Caiti was sprawled out on her stomach on the floor, a pillow she'd stolen off the couch stuffed under her tummy. Her muggle studies book lay open in front her. Marlowe was slumped over the arm of the couch next to her, potions book held above his head at arms length.

"Sorry," he said for the millionth time. "Can I distract you, again?"

Caiti stuck her quill in her book to hold her page and looked up at him.

"I just don't understand," he began, "Why if I wanted to make an antidote to certain poisons, I would want to put the poison itself into the potion? Doesn't that seem like a bad idea?"

Caiti shook her head. "You know that's something even muggles do. You ever seen how muggle doctors will stick a needle in someone and it's got something in it to supposedly help them?" Marlowe nodded, frowning. "Well I learned that they'll put viruses in those, supposedly to help their bodies fight off the real thing. Some antidotes work the same way," she said. "Kind of tells your body what the potion's supposed to be helping you fight off once you've drunk it."

"But wouldn't that just make you... more poisoned?"

Caiti laughed. "No, because the other ingredients in the antidote are designed to remove the poison aren't they? So it works in the potion itself as well as in your body."

Marlowe continued to frown at her like he didn't quite believe it, but he scribbled something into the margins of his book anyway. After a minute's silence and a reread of the paragraph that had raised his question in the first place, he decided it all made sense and added "Thanks."

Caiti just glanced at him and said nothing. She bent her legs, feet in the air and rested her chin on her hands.

Behind them, the door to the common room opened and Caiti heard a voice she knew only too well. "Oh no," she whispered. After a split second's pause, she scrambled up and ducked behind Marlowe's chair.

"Hmm?" he asked, but she hurriedly pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head.

"Pretend you're alone, don't look at me," she hissed. Her ex-boyfriend Theo had just walked in. They had only broken up at the very end of last term and she was not at all looking forward to her first conversation with him. She had so far avoided talking with him at all and was keen to see how many days she could go before it was unavoidable.

She heard his voice heading towards the stairs to the boy's dormitories and when she was sure he was gone, she let herself wilt over sideways and roll onto her back, looking up at Marlowe. She let out a heavy sigh, as though she had been holding her breath. Marlowe shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. "What was that about?"

_"Theo," _she whispered, as though to say his name any louder would summon him right back down the steps to her.

"Caiti, you can't avoid him forever, you know."

"Of course I know that," she said quickly. "But I'm still going to try."

"What do you think he's gonna do? Punch you? Grovel?"

"Oh my god, if he grovels, I swear..." Caiti had broken up with him, and to say the least, Theo had been less than agreeable. He'd had a few months now away from the situation and could easily have been feeling more civil, but Caiti still worried. He'd always had a bit of a temper when things didn't go exactly his way. She knew he would've wanted to end things on his own terms, but she couldn't give him that satisfaction, or her own satisfaction would never have come. Theo wouldn't have broken up with her at all.

That wasn't to say it hadn't been hard for Caiti. They had been together nearly two years after all. She cared about him a lot. But at some point in the last year she had realized she had never really loved him, or at least, she had never been_ in_ love with him. And once she knew that, she knew she never would be. The last thing she wanted to do was string him along.

"Don't worry about him, Caiti," said Marlowe. "It's not like you left him at the altar or something. He'll get over it."

This time it was Caiti's turn to look skeptical. Still, she sat back up. "What time is it?" she asked. "I'm getting sleepy."

Marlowe checked his watch. "Half past ten," he said. "Not too late. And I'm not too keen on going upstairs for a while anyway."

"Why not?" asked Caiti.

"Evelyn's up there. Those two are getting unbearable. Sean just needs to kiss her already, or ask her out or something."

"I'd be shocked if that happened before you graduate," she said.

"Maybe it'd be a good thing for Sean to be champion," he said. "Coax some courage out of him."

Caiti laughed. "Yeah, maybe." She leaned back on her hands, shoulders scrunching up by her ears. "I hope you get it though," she said.

Marlowe went pink. "Thanks," he said, looking startled. Then rather stupidly, he added, "Why?"

"Well it's like you said isn't it. It'd be so like Sean to get it. Someone needs to knock him down a few pegs. And I feel like you'd do well, anyway."

"My mom would have a fit," he said with a small laugh. "But I think my dad would be proud."

"I'd have a fit too," she said. "And be proud."

Marlowe laughed, embarrassed. Caiti got off the ground and came to sit on the couch with him. She sat against the armrest on the other end, facing him with her knees tucked up to her chest and her muggle studies book wedged between her and the couch.

"Why don't you enter?" he asked. "You'll be seventeen by then."

Caiti smiled wrily. "Barely seventeen. And still terrified of everything. Besides, I'm too clumsy and not particularly good at anything. I'd never make it out alive."

"Uhm, excuse me. I think you're pretty good at a lot of things. Not to mention a straight up genius in potions."

"Yeah well, I probably won't have the time to sit and brew a potion during any of the tasks will I?"

He tipped his head to one side, conceding. "Yeah I suppose you're right. But still."

Caiti pulled her book back out and put it on her lap.

"What, you're not going to bed?" he asked.

"You didn't want to go upstairs yet," she said. "Might as well get some more work done and keep you company."

Marlowe pulled his own book back out with a smile. "Not complaining."

They were the last people to leave the common room for the night.


	3. Quidditch Tryouts

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Three. Quidditch Tryouts.

"Alright, if I could have everyone gather 'round, please," Marlowe shouted. He stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. About two dozen people had shown up, not including the remains of his last year's team. He was glad he didn't need to replace everyone: he still had Sean, his keeper, and his fellow beater Clara Hall (she was a fan favorite, because not only were female beaters fairly rare, but Clara was even more unlikely: she was small with very dainty features, but had remarkable aim and a good arm), as well as one of his chasers, Marcie Pritchard.

He still needed two chasers and a seeker, and he wasn't opposed to a few reserve players either. Someone was always getting injured.

Marlowe looked around at everyone, pausing for a moment on a small boy in the back: Elliot. His little brother smiled weakly, lifting the school broom clutched in his hand. Marlowe's heart sank. He wanted so badly to be able to give Elliot a chance - he knew his brother looked up to him, especially on the Quidditch field - but he doubted whether he would out-fly the older students here.

Shaking his head, Marlowe looked away from Elliot and said, "Alright, everyone. I'd like to get started pretty quickly. We'll be trying out for chasers first, and then for seeker. I'll need three players. So... " He paused. He had just noticed that, standing in the first row of hopefuls was none other than Theo. He wondered if Caiti had noticed - she and Evelyn were up in the stands, munching on toast and watching. He glanced at Sean, standing a little ways behind him off his left shoulder. He'd never been very good at this sort of thing and Theo had him preoccupied.

Sean smiled encouragingly, giving him a nod. Marlowe turned back and continued. "Just do your best, and... Let's get started."

He had them all fly a few loops around the pitch, just to see who was or wasn't comfortable on a broom, and this turned out to be a good decision; Elliot was not the only first year to show up. He felt much better prepared to move on to the more important tests knowing who he had better spend his time watching.

Next, he moved them through a series of chaser exercises with Sean protecting the goal posts. He was pleased to say that Elliot was at least the best in his class, though not the best overall. He wondered if he might be able to make a reserve out of him, let him practice with them and work his way up to playing next year. Marcie at least would be graduating, leaving at least one chaser spot open for Elliot to potentially fill. He didn't think Elliot would make much a beater, but there was always his spot too, and Sean's as keeper. He would have to consider it.

The try outs were promising. A fifth year boy Marlowe recognized but had never spoken to scored six goals, and Sean was not an easy keeper to get past. A few others scored four or so each.

When he felt he'd seen all he needed to see, he put a list of potential chasers in the back of his head and moved on to seeker tryouts.

Marlowe was annoyed to admit to himself that Theo stood out. He could only imagine how Caiti would feel if he put him on the team, but could he risk not having their best shot at the quidditch cup just because his best friend had once dated his seeker? He noticed that every time Theo's turn came up, Caiti had looked resolutely down, very interested in either her shoes or her fingernails or the floor of the bleachers.

He hated to say it, but Theo was very good. He was, actually, the only one there who caught the snitch at all - and he did so more than once, quickly. Even with Clara pelting bludgers at him. And then there was the fact that he was just the build for a seeker: light and rather short for a boy of his age, very speedy.

Marlowe decided he would have to talk to Caiti.

The conversation, it appeared, was going to be harder than Marlowe had planned. Caiti was looking exceptionally cute, with her blonde hair tied back in two french braids, each finishing in one neat little loopy curl. To make matters worse, he found the perturbed look on her face irresistible: heavy lidded brown eyes, tight lips, and pale cheeks. Her arms were folded in front of her and she stood at the mouth of the pitch where the players entered from the locker rooms, waiting for him. Evelyn had already caught up with Sean - the rest of the team and the students who had tried out had already cleared out. He had heard his two friends laughing loudly about something on their way. Evidently, Evelyn had recovered from her cold.

"Caitlyn O'Connell!" called Marlowe as he approached her, trying to keep the mood light. "What can I do for you?"

She did not beat around the bush even for a moment. "You're going to choose him aren't you?"

He sighed. "I think I have to. He was the best one, wasn't he?"

Caiti dropped her arms and tipped her head back, letting out a loud sound of frustration. "I just wanted him to do badly!" she shouted.

Marlowe tried not to laugh. He had rarely seen Caiti angry about anything. She was usually a very easy going sort of person. This change was difficult for him to take seriously. He just wanted to hug her and make her smile again.

Instead, he said, "Caiti, what's it matter if he's on the team?"

"What's it matter?" she asked, head snapping back up to look at him. Their eyes locked together and Caiti's were fiery, dark, and intense. "It matters because then he'll be hanging around with you, and _I _hang around with you. It matters because then he'll start finding reasons to come around and 'ask you questions' while I'm around, trying to weasel his way back in. It matters because if we-" But she stopped there, turned on her heel and began walking away.

Marlowe jogged a few steps to catch up with her. He wanted very badly to hear the rest of what she had been about to say. He thought her cheeks looked slightly rosier than they had done seconds earlier. She walked so quickly and purposefully that Marlowe, whose legs were about twice as long, felt hard pressed to keep up with her.

"I mean..." he began, not quite sure what he was going to say, "If it matters that much, I could... I could see about someone else..." His voice trailed off.

"No," she snapped at once. "I don't want you giving up your chances of winning because of me. I'm just- ugh!" She looked as though she did not know the word she was looking to use. After a minute's silence, she said, in a much calmer voice, "I'm just frustrated."

"Aw, come on," said Marlowe. He looped his arm around her shoulders as usual and gave a playful tug to the end of one of her braids. "I'll make sure he doesn't bother you."

Slowly, Caiti's tight face relaxed. She chewed on the inside of her cheeks for a minute, glanced up at him, and when she caught his eyes, she smiled the tiniest smile ever, almost unnoticeable. The corners of her lips barely lifted, but there was a change in her eyes that was clear as day, as though a dark storm cloud had just passed through and revealed the sun again.

Marlowe's face split into an embarrassingly wide grin for a reason he could not put his finger on. He looked away quickly.

"I'm just being stupid," said Caiti in a quiet voice.

"Nah," he said, giving her a little squeeze that pulled her in closer under his arm. "You're just being honest."

They reached the great oak front doors and made their way up the front steps to the entrance hall and into the great hall for lunch. Sean and Evelyn were sitting all the way at the far end of the table, nearest to the teachers. They started towards them, but only a little ways in, Marlowe caught sight of Elliot, frantically trying to make eye contact with his brother.

"I'll meet you-" he said to Caiti, letting his hand slide across her shoulders and upper back, trailing to just his fingertips grazing her arm as he changed course and made for Elliot. Caiti lingered for a moment before she headed over to Sean and Evelyn.

Marlowe squeezed himself onto the bench next to Elliot, sitting backwards with his legs into the aisle. "Hey buddy," he said with a grin. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

Elliot's hair was all mussed up and windblown from his broom. Marlowe reached over to try and fix it but Elliot swatted him away.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I'd make it did I? But I thought I'd come anyway." He looked away for a second and when he looked back, Marlowe was struck anew by how young he was - and all of the first years. The difference between eleven and seventeen had never seemed greater. His eyes had gone wide and hopeful. "How'd I do?" he asked. There was something puppyish about him. Seeking praise. Hoping not to be scolded.

"You know, I was pretty impressed," Marlowe said honestly. "You weren't the _best _one out there so don't go getting a big head, but you definitely weren't the worst either. And-" His eyes darted around and when he spoke again he lowered his voice so that none of Elliot's friends, some of whom had been there with him, would hear. "Don't tell anyone yet, but I'm thinking of making you a reserve. You'd probably never play unless someone got injured or something, but you'd practice with us. Give you a head start on your classmates for next year."

Elliot's face absolutely lit up. Marlowe smiled but he tapped his lips and Elliot nodded fervently. "Alright, I'll talk to you later." He patted him patronizingly on the head and Elliot ducked quickly out of the way so that Marlowe could not continue to embarrass him in front of his friends.

Still, when he had turned his back and started on his way, he heard Elliot call, "Bye Marlowe!" and Marlowe smiled and waved a hand over his shoulder.

Sliding onto the bench next to Caiti, Marlowe began to stuff his plate with everything in reach. He had not realized he was starving. Tryouts had taken a lot out of him.

"So..." said Caiti, with about thirteen o's. "What'd you tell him?"

"I told him," he said quietly - he was still not sure he wanted everyone to know - "that I may make him a reserve, so he won't play but he'll practice with us. Learn the ropes, you know?"

Sean gave a short nod and smiled. "The only reserve?"

Marlowe smirked. "May need one more so people don't think it's favoritism. He did play decently though. I don't know what I'd expected. Guess I hadn't expected anything, actually. I didn't realize he'd come."

"So who are you actually thinking of choosing?" Sean asked.

"Well I think Eddie Kirkland's a shoe-in. He made the most goals and he seems like he'd be pretty easy to have around. He listened well, you know. Very professional," Marlowe nodded slowly, staring off at a spot of wall, deep in thought. "Think I'm between a few people for the other chaser... anyone stand out to you Sean?"

"Miriam What's-her-name was alright," said Sean.

"Oh, you don't want her," said Caiti quickly. Miriam Tintwhistle was in her year and Amelia's best friend. "She's a horrible gossip and she doesn't handle authority well. She'll try and take over, Marlowe. She'll start to think she's captain."

"Mm," said Marlowe through a bite of potatoes. "Thasgudinfomashun."

"What about that dark haired girl?" Evelyn piped up. "Think she was a third year."

"Elodie McCavoy?" Marlowe asked, consulting his sign in list, now scribbled over with notes. A few names had been outright crossed off. Eddie and Theo had stars next to their names.

"I think so."

"Yeah, she was pretty decent," agreed Sean. "Maybe needs a little work, but we've got some time before the first match."

"I'll think on it," said Marlowe, but he circled her name.

"And what about..." Sean began. He gave Marlowe a meaningful look. He knew why Sean had not finished.

Marlowe glanced at Caiti who had gone very quiet and still. She had even stopped chewing the bite of food she had just put into her mouth. She stared straight down at her plate and did not blink or even breathe.

"Uh, well- I think it'll have to be Theo, don't you? He was the only one who managed to get the snitch at all."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking that too."

After this, they changed subjects quickly, for fear Caiti would make herself pass out if she went without breathing or moving any longer.

When Marlowe posted the results on the Ravenclaw notice board, the Ravenclaws had a mixture of reactions. Marlowe had ended up with Theo as seeker, Eddie and Elodie joining Marcie as chasers, and Elliot and a fourth year called Charlie as reserves with no official position. Most people thought he had been quite diplomatic about his decisions, but a few - namely the older students who were not chosen - were horrified that he had picked a third year over them, and worse, his own first-year brother.

Miriam Tintwhistle turned out to be one of the worst. He overheard her talking furiously to Amelia in the common room about how biased it had all been, and how obviously she should have the spot instead. Marlowe was happy with his team. He wouldn't have minded her annoyance except that she brought Caiti into it.

"He didn't choose me because he's bff's with that _Caiti," _she was saying. She said Caiti's name as though they had not lived in the same dormitory for the past five years. "And she's never liked us. Probably said a load of horrible stuff that made him change his mind."

She did not bother to lower her voice when she realized Marlowe was within earshot. Instead, she gave him a scathing look that made Marlowe very, very glad he had taken Caiti's advice. Miriam seemed like a terrible sort of person to have as a part of a team.

"You know," said Marlowe loudly, not bothering with who heard. "I'd watch your attitude if I were you. If you want to know why you weren't chosen, there's your answer."

Someone leaned over the banister from the loft-like study area above them and yelled "Would you shut it?! Some of us are trying to study, here."

Marlowe scowled, looked at Miriam again, and said, "And you'd better think about being nicer to your classmates too. Don't talk about Caiti that way." He stomped up the stairs to his dormitory.

Marlowe had rather hoped that Miriam's distaste with Marlowe and his little outburst - in defense of Caiti no less - would make Amelia lose interest, but that was not the case. Three times in the next week, she sprang herself on him when he was not expecting it: walking down the corridor to class, on his way out of the great hall, and once, shockingly, he had found her waiting outside the men's lavatory where she assaulted him before he could even register with whom he was speaking.

"Amelia," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence when it occurred to him what was happening. "You can't just hang around waiting for me like that. That's- that's really weird."

She looked so hurt he almost regretted he'd said anything, but she was back at it the next day as though nothing had happened, and he went back to giving her short, surly responses whenever she tried to engage him in a conversation.

Besides, he had other things to think about. He had started practices with his new team almost immediately, training three nights a week. And on top of that, his workload was mounting ever-higher. He had a three-foot essay due in two days for Care of Magical Creatures which he had not yet started, along with about a week's worth of practice on conjuring - he had, so far, not been able to make anything larger than a coat button appear out of thin air - and, worst of all, he had still not succeeded in making an antidote which was effective.

As they were supposed to be able to brew one come Monday which could be turned in for points, and he was beginning to feel very nervous about his ability to pass the assignment at all, on Sunday afternoon, he went looking for Caiti in the common room.

But she was not there.

He found Evelyn and Sean in the loft upstairs, working through an assignment for Charms.

"Have you seen Caiti?" he asked.

Evelyn shook his head. "Not since this morning. She was about to come up here with us, but then all the sudden she said she'd just remembered something and needed to go. She was acting very strange."

"Thanks," he said, already turning and heading back downstairs. "I know where she'll be."

Marlowe made his way down into the dungeons to the potions classroom. Caiti had once told him she went there sometimes on her own when she wanted to be by herself. He had never bothered her there before, even if he suspected that was where he'd find her. He wanted to respect her space.

But this was becoming an emergency and the potions classroom was exactly where he needed to be.

He peered through the small window on the door and, sure enough, there she was, her hair tied in a half ponytail with a droopy blue bow. She was bent low over her cauldron, little piles of prepared ingredients lined up on the work surface next to her.

Marlowe lifted his hand, his fist hovering a few inches from the wood for several seconds before he knocked, three times, lightly. He saw Caiti look up, and he turned the knob, opening the door just enough to slip inside and shut it again.

"Hey," he said.

She looked surprised, but not unhappy. After a slight delay, she said "Hey."

"Mind if I come in?" Marlowe asked. Caiti shook her head. He pulled up a chair next to her, dropping his bag at his feet. "What are you making?"

Her cauldron was full of a pale blue liquid, so clear he could see straight to the bottom. It was perfectly still despite the flames roaring underneath it. The steam rising off the cauldron almost seemed to glitter.

"It's to calm anxiety," she said quietly. He saw her lower lip quaver ever so slightly but she took a deep breath through her nose, drinking in the smell of the potion which, even half-finished, clearly possessed excellent calming properties. She reached for a pile of leaves next to her, counting them off under her breath, and then dropped them into the cauldron all at once.

"I don't remember learning that one," he said.

"No, it isn't one we do in school," said Caiti with a tilt of her head as she considered her work.

"Have you ever made it before?"

She shook her head again.

"You're incredible, Caiti."

She gave him a small smile and said, "Thanks." When she looked away again, she let out a small sigh, barely audible, but visible in the way her countenance seemed to droop.

"What's up?" he asked, voice low.

"I just... sometimes I regret it," she said. She looked up at him and he saw that her eyes were glassy. She stirred her cauldron three times and tipped in a handful of something that looked like pine needles - the potion turned a deep, clear blue for a moment, before fading back to the pale blue it had been previously. It was then that Marlowe realized that no potions book was open in front of her. This was all either by memory or by instinct - either way would have been equally impressive. But he did not interrupt her to ask about it. He had a feeling that she would elaborate on her own time, and he wanted to hear what was bothering her.

"Marlowe?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever done something that felt totally right at the time, that you knew you needed to do, but that you didn't want to do, and even after a long time," she stopped. Her voice was starting to break. She took another slow deep breath, right near the cauldron. "And- and even after a long time," she repeated, "it still feels just as hard as it did then?"

Marlowe scooted his chair closer, reaching for her hand. "Yeah," he said. "I think I have."

Caiti's jaw was very tense, like she was biting down very hard in effort to keep herself together. Her shoulders lifted and she said. "I thought I was okay, but being here and seeing him... having to sit there in class with him... it's been really hard. And just going to sleep and knowing he's right there, right across the common room. It's so weird."

Marlowe thought she was finished and opened his mouth to say something, but then she began again. "And the worst part is that he seems so _fine _all the time. Like, why aren't you hurting too? Why are you _over _it?" Marlowe could almost see her replacing the word "it" with "me" inside her head, and right on cue, the first few tears slipped out.

Still, the potion did not go forgotten. Caiti pulled her hand free from his. She picked up the last ingredient left on the table, something Marlowe could not identify, placed it in a small vial, pointed her wand at it, and muttered something. It squished in on itself, squeezing out a small amount of a pale pinkish liquid, something like a juice. She tipped the liquid into the cauldron, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, but now she had started, she found she could not stop.

She let out one small sob which seemed to surprise her, and as if she wasrealizing for the first time just how sad she was, she looked at Marlowe, more tears spilling over and down her cheeks. "Can I have a hug?" she asked.

Marlowe wasted no time. He pulled her right into his arms and smoothed his hand over her hair, his finger catching for a moment on her ribbon, and then up and down her back. Caiti clutched at him for a few minutes and then he felt her weight and her heat slowly drawing away as she sat back into her own chair. She took a deep shuddering breath and stirred the potion a few times. "It's almost ready," she said shakily.

Marlowe nodded. Caiti pointed her wand at the vial she had used before and said _"Scourgify"_ leaving it spotless. She held it in her hand for three minutes during which time neither of them said anything. They both stared at the cauldron, the softly simmering potion with its glittering steam. Finally, Caiti seemed to think it was done. She took the cauldron off the flame and dipped the vial into the potion, filling it up. Tipping her head back, she drank it all at once and he could see the weight slipping off her already, a sense of calm and ease slipping over her like a wave.

"D'you want some?" Her eyes flicked to him, but she did not turn her head.

"Uhm," he said. "Yeah, sure." He figured he had his own things to be anxious about, the current issue being the apparent difficulty of N.E.W.T. year starting from day one.

Caiti dipped the vial in again and handed it to him. He drank it and felt exactly what he had seen on Caiti. It tasted like Spring - like lavender and honey and fresh air - and he could feel it slipping through him, leaving him comfortably cool and refreshed.

"Thank you," he said. "That actually.. Wow. That helped a lot." She nodded, sniffling.

She pulled two larger bottles out of her bag and filled them up with the remainder of the potion. "Keeps well," she explained, her voice still soft. When she had put the now full bottles carefully into her bag and cleaned out the last bit left in her cauldron with a wave of her wand and a soft "_Evanesco," _she looked up at Marlowe again. "What did you need?"

He blinked, confused, but then realized she was probably wondering why he had come to find her at all. "Oh- stupid thing. I just- I can't get this antidote to work. I thought, maybe... well I thought you might be able to help me." It seemed silly now. She didn't need to be helping him. She had too much of her own to deal with.

But Marlowe was shocked to see that Caiti's face, still splotchy and tear-stained, had lit up. "Show me the recipe," she said.


	4. Theo

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Four. Theo.

The air was very chilly on Wednesday morning when Caiti headed outside for Herbology. Frost covered the grass and the sun, just now beginning to poke out, was peakish and wavering, barely serving to warm the skin on her face which had gone pink with cold. It was only the middle of September, but already Caiti had had to break out the old winter cloak with its silver fastenings down the front. She hugged her arms to her chest, her bag slipping off her shoulder, and hurried across the lawn to the greenhouses.

Inside, she spotted Theo, already there, and immediately made for the opposite side of the dungeon, standing near a Hufflepuff girl she had always rather liked named Penny.

"Morning," Penny said brightly.

"Morning," Caiti said back. "Chilly out, isn't it?"

"Very," she nodded. Caiti saw that her cheeks too were looking rosier than usual and she had not yet removed her gloves.

They could not talk much longer, though, because old Professor Munslow had just shuffled into the room. He had wispy white hair poking out under the Sherlock cap he wore, and his glasses were about two centimeters thick with prescription. "Hello to my sixth years," he said kindly. "Now if you'll remember last year, we worked with screechsap seedlings," he said, slow and deliberate. "Today, we'll be learning how to care for the screechsap which is nearly ready to be planted. But before we begin, I have taken the liberty of pairing you all up myself. Now let's see," he began, unfolding a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"We have Amelia and Penny..." Penny smiled her goodbye to Caiti and went to find her new partner. Caiti did not listen too closely until she heard her own name. "Caitlyn and Theodore," he was saying. Her eyes snapped up and Professor Munslow was giving her a knowing smile like he was doing her a favor. Of course, they had only broken up just before summer. The teachers, who could usually be counted on to know all the student gossip, might not have realized yet. Grudgingly, Caiti picked up her bag and met Theo halfway, the two of them coming to stand at an open spot at the table. Caiti looked straight forward, refusing to look at him.

Once everyone had been paired up, Professor Munslow began to explain their task. Caiti tried hard to pay attention, but her vision was physically clouding with discomfort and she felt stiff and distant. In what seemed like no time at all, he was saying, "And that's that! Shouldn't be too complicated, but of course, be very careful, make sure you're wearing the gloves around the table... and ask questions if you have any. Now, off to work." He finished with a quick double clap and fell quiet.

At first, Theo tried just talking about their screechsap, reiterating all the directions Caiti had not paid attention to. She worked in a stony silence, never looking at him, but after about ten minutes, they accidentally made eye contact around their plant and Caiti's stomach did something funny. She looked away again, but this time, she spoke.

"So..." she said quietly. "I heard you made the quidditch team."

Theo seemed relieved she was speaking to him again. In her peripheral vision, she saw his shoulders relax. "Yeah!" he said too quickly. "Seeker. I'm pretty excited."

"Yeah, that's..." Caiti paused, trying hard to sound genuine. "That's really great. I'm happy for you." She glanced up at him again, but she did not maintain eye contact. It hurt too much. But even not looking at him, she felt she could see his eyes in front of her, burned into the air like spots of light when you accidentally look into the sun: bright hazel, ringed with green. She thought his eyes were probably the first thing she fell in love with.

If she had fallen in love with him at all.

"Thanks," he said.

They were quiet for a few minutes until Theo accidentally bumped one of the screechsap's branches, tickling it, and it let out a feeble screech. A small amount of orange sap shot out from the tips of the offended branch. The schreechsap curled itself up, away from Theo, as though to protect itself from the tickling.

Caiti couldn't help herself. She let out a small giggle. Theo looked stunned. She looked up at him and saw that the sap had hit him square on the nose and he had gone almost cross eyed looking at it. Caiti's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes grew wide and pinched at the corners, trying to hold in her laughter, but then Theo grinned too and let out a little laugh. A bit of the sticky sap dripped off his nose and onto the floor between their feet, and then they were both laughing. Caiti dropped her hand and giggled shyly through her closed mouth. This time when their eyes met, she held his gaze.

Theo glanced down at his own nose again and Caiti, snapped out of the moment, said, "Oh," and reached for a towel. She almost made to wipe it off for him, as she might have done a few months ago, but she stopped halfway, lowered her hand awkwardly, and held it out for him. Theo's smile faded a little. Caiti turned back to the screechsap and did not watch him any longer.

When class had ended, they cleared up their things in silence, murmured quiet goodbyes and Caiti hurried away, not ready yet to walk back to the castle with him.

Caiti was the last of her friends to arrive in the great hall for lunch. She took her usual place next to Marlowe and across from Sean and Evelyn, sitting down heavily so that the silverware on the table jumped.

Marlowe gave her a quizzical and slightly worried look. "I talked to him," she told him under her breath, so that not even Sean and Evelyn could hear her. Marlowe had agreed - suggested actually - that he would not tell either of them, or anyone else, what had happened in the potions classroom the previous afternoon. She appreciated that a lot. She wasn't too keen on sharing everything too widely.

"You did?" he said with a frown. But the other two were now peering at them in confusion so Caiti said nothing more for now. Instead she asked Evelyn - who was muggle-born - for help with a question she had been unable to answer on her latest muggle studies homework regarding the persistence of the postal service in a time of increasing reliance on electronic communication.

Evelyn talked her through her thoughts on the subject while Sean tried to catch Marlowe's eye. Marlowe pretended he was very interested in his chicken pot pie and ignored him.

"So, you ever figure out that potion?" Sean asked him, raising his eyebrows. "Said you had to make it properly today, right?"

Marlowe nodded. "Yeah it's been sorted," he said easily. "Caiti helped me yesterday."

Caiti glanced at Marlowe, worried he might say more, but he just took another bite of his lunch.

Sean, who seemed to have expected some further elaboration, waited a beat too long before he said, "Good."

Caiti wanted very much for the other two to leave so she could talk to Marlowe normally. She wasn't sure exactly why she didn't want to tell them. She and Evelyn had always talked about everything, and Evelyn had always been the biggest supporter of her relationship with Theo, the only person, really, that she had ever talked to about it - the good or the bad. She had especially been there for Caiti when they had first broken up.

But something stopped her anyhow. Maybe, she thought, it was that she had acted so normally all summer, and Evelyn had been over a fair amount. Or maybe it was that Sean, who had never liked Theo (although she suspected that had more to do with the fact that Sean knew Theo had kissed his little sister on a regular basis for nearly two years than with Theo's actual character) was sitting right across the table from her and wouldn't like to hear that she was still wasting her energy worrying about him.

And maybe too it was that, she had already given over to vulnerability in front of one of her friends and did not much like the idea of having all three of them looking at her like she was a loose canon, about to explode in a fit of tears at the slightest thing. She was not, really, that delicate after all. She had just had a bad weekend filled with self-doubt and a mixture of pitiful regret and a desire to understand what she could not.

It did not seem likely that the conversation she wanted to have, however, would be happening. Sean had launched into a lengthy discussion about quidditch tactics with Marlowe, based on something he had apparently overheard the Slytherin team captain discussing with his fellow teammate.

Marlowe got sucked into Quidditch conversations easily and was persuaded to leave them much less easily. So Caiti, knowing she had a long walk ahead of her to the North Tower for Divination, brushed his shoulder as she stood to leave, said a goodbye to Evelyn - who was the only one listening to her - and who was looking rather miserable at being left in the middle of the boys' discussion all on her own - and began her walk upstairs.

Marlowe finally got a chance to check in with Caiti that night in the common room. They had all four been doing work together, seated around one of the round, dark wood tables in the loft, but a few minutes previously, Sean had realized they had prefect duties and were supposed to be patrolling the corridors that evening, so he and Evelyn left, and as soon as she was sure they were on the other side of the door, Caiti put down her quill and looked at Marlowe expectantly.

He stopped mid-sentence on an essay about the redeeming qualities in trolls despite their rather stupid and violent outer shell (Professor Poke, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was rather fond of attempting to humanize the sorts of creatures that people commonly tried to avoid rather than care for, a phenomenon which had been inspired in him by Hagrid, his own professor).

"So," he said. "You talked to him."

"Yes," she said, and then, surprised to find that after anticipating this conversation all day, she did not know what she planned to say, she stopped, looking anxious.

"And how'd it go?" Marlowe prompted.

She frowned in thought. "Well I suppose it wasn't horrible... but it wasn't good either. We laughed a bit, but then it got awkward."

"And you didn't say anything about..." he trailed off.

"About breaking up? No. Just about class. And him being on the quidditch team."

"So it's not really resolved, then," Marlowe said. It was not a question.

"No," she agreed. "It's... well I don't know what it is. I don't know how I feel." She propped her elbows on the table, chin resting on top of her hands. "I don't know whether I sort of want to talk to him again, or never want to see him again," she said in frustration. Her eyes lit up with some sort of fiery passion for a moment.

Marlowe thought for a minute. Something about the tone of her voice had awakened some kind of fear in him that he did not know he had. Something that felt very much akin to jealousy. Still, he looked away from her and said, "You know, Caiti, if you wanted to... to try again with him-"

But Caiti cut him off before he could finish. "No," she said resolutely. "That's not what I want."

As if on cue, Theo and his friend Colin came up the steps. Caiti sat up very straight, arms by her sides. Before they reached the top though, Theo spotted Caiti and, although she and Marlowe were the only two up there and there were plenty of other tables, he mumbled something about it being "too full" and started back down. Caiti saw Colin roll his eyes in exasperation, but he followed his friend back down.

"I hate this," she said, bitterly, and when she suddenly returned to her essay she wrote with such force that twice she scratched holes right through her parchment.

After an hour or so, Caiti decided she was going to bed, and she left with her things. Fifteen minutes later, she was crawling into her four poster and under the covers. She curled up on her side, clutching fist fulls of her comforter. She did not close her eyes to sleep, but stared blankly into the dark, blinking much less often than normal.

She couldn't get Theo's eyes out of her head. But they weren't the only thing that seemed burned into her vision permanently. Marlowe's face swam there too, and even more than that the feeling of his arms around her the previous day, the way he had held her.

A part of her had to admit that Marlowe might have been right when he alluded that perhaps she did not want to be broken up with Theo after all. In many ways, she missed being his girlfriend. But then, perhaps it wasn't really Theo she missed. Perhaps she missed being anyone's girlfriend.

It was a selfish thought, but the feeling of being held had reminded her what she had lost. Though now she thought about it, she wasn't sure Theo had ever really held her that way at all. She remembered, much less fondly now, how he had always been so eager to brush over whatever was upsetting her, never very willing to take the time to listen. A quick hug maybe, and then he would kiss her and make her forget, temporarily. It had felt like enough at the time, but had it been?

When she finally drifted off to sleep, much, much later after all her classmates had found their way into their own beds, it was not Theo on her mind anymore. It was Marlowe: his mischievous laugh, and the way his eyes were lighter and more liquid when he was excited, and the way his dark hair curled across his forehead. And his hands, smoothing over her back and in her hair, telling her without words that it would all be okay.

Meanwhile, Sean and Evelyn were out in a corridor on the sixth floor where they'd been assigned to patrol for the evening. Evelyn sat on the floor underneath a portrait of Hengist of Woodcroft with her legs stretched out in front of her and an expression of utmost boredom on her face. Her Prefects badge glittered on her chest and her wand lay by her side. Nearby, Sean was pacing back and forth, swinging his arms rather too enthusiastically for his lackadaisical way of walking. He kept looking at Evelyn every few seconds. She had been staring at the wall in front of her, eyes glazed over, but this time she caught him.

"What?" she asked, one side of her lip quirking up.

Sean opened his mouth to answer, scrabbling for some explanation. But just then, for the first and probably only time in his life, Peeves came to the rescue, providing a distraction that made it unnecessary for Sean to answer. Somewhere to their left, they heard a great clattering of metal that sounded as though something was tumbling down the stairs from the floor above, followed by a distant cackling that was growing louder and clearer by the second. Evelyn stood up quickly, grabbing her wand.

"What's he up to now?" she asked.

Sean shrugged and they hurried towards the source of the sound. It became clear, as they reached the staircase, that coming to see what the commotion was about was exactly the wrong thing to do. "Oh goody!" he shrieked. "Prefects! Prefects come to see old Peevsie's little joke! Well you've missed it," he looked down at a suit of armor which lay crumpled on the floor. One disconnected arm had slid some ways away. Sean could have sworn it was groaning. Peeves' body followed his gaze, and laughing again, he began to perform a series of somersaults in midair. "But don't worry, I've got another one." Stopping his flipping on a dime and without a trace of dizziness, he zoomed upward, coming to rest on a large, golden candelabra above them. He began to pluck the candles out, and sent them each whizzing one or two at a time at the pair of them.

"Protego," Sean said, whipping out his wand with a bit of quick thinking. The candles bounced off his shield charm instead of off of them.

"Peeves, stop!" shouted Evelyn. "Put those back!"

But he just laughed and continued to pelt them. Evidently, the shield charm had worn off because one of the candles suddenly sliced through the place where they all all stopped henceforth, smacking into Evelyn's shoulder. Her hand flew up to the place she'd been hit. "What are you going to do little prefects? Going to get old Peevsie in trouble?"

"We'll go and tell Professor Osset!" she shouted. "_Stop it!" _she added as another candle hit her dead in the chest.

"Not scared of him, not scared of you! Not scared of anyone, not even poo!" Peeves chanted, demonstrating an enviable level of maturity.

"Fine, then!" said Sean, pulling Evelyn out of the way as another candle headed her way. "We'll go and find the Bloody Baron!"

Peeves stopped abruptly. "You- you wouldn't," he said, suddenly much less confident.

"Oh yes we would," Evelyn argued, folding her arms. Peeves, incensed, stuck his tongue out at them and chucked the last candle in his hand hard at Sean and zoomed away, purposely banging into everything and making a lot of racket.

It was only when he had pulled away to avoid it that Sean realized he had not dropped his arm from around her ever since he had pulled out of the way of the approaching flying object.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "Guess we have to find a way to clean this all up."

"Right, yeah," she said and she pulled out her wand and began using the banishing charm to send the candles back into the candelabra while Sean repaired the dismembered suit of armor. About half the candles had been returned to their rightful places when Evelyn stopped, rubbing her shoulder again. "Wait, that actually really hurt," she said, looking belatedly half-stunned, half-amused. Sean patted a spot above his knee gingerly and nodded.

They looked at each other. Sean's face split into a grin. Evelyn couldn't help but mirror it. They began to laugh, Evelyn quickly accelerating to the kind of laughter in which no sound comes out. She had stitches in her sides and was doubled over, clutching at her middle. Sean had his hand on her upper back to support himself. Finally, when they had both calmed down, still grinning, Sean nodded slowly as if coming to some sort of resolution and said, "You know, Peeves, he's alright."

"Yeah," Evelyn agreed. "He's got his redeeming qualities."


	5. The Arrival

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Five. The Arrival.

September faded out into a cooler October, crisp air and bright blue skies. The forest had erupted in bright yellow and the students had settled into the new school year. On the first Tuesday of October, Sean made his way, sleepily, downstairs to the common room, intending to meet Evelyn there before breakfast. Marlowe had acted on Sean's desires to stay wrapped up in the warm covers of his four poster bed and was running behind.

He was surprised to find Caiti downstairs as well - she, usually, was the latest to rise. This morning, she and Evelyn were clustered around the notice board with a number of other people. He came up behind them, assuming it was just the news of the next Hogsmeade visit or something, put his arms around both their shoulders, and, because he knew his sister hated it, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

Caiti turned to him, still bleary-eyed from the early hour but awake enough to glare at him. She wiped off her cheek. "Gross."

"Morning," said Evelyn.

Sean just laughed at Caiti and said, "What are you looking at?"

Evelyn ducked out from under his arm, going to pick up her bag which she had dropped on a nearby armchair. "Read it for yourself," she said. "But do it quick, I'm starving."

Caiti slipped away too, hammering up the stairs to the boys dorms to find out where Marlowe was. Sean turned back to the notice board which he now saw was taken over by a large sign listing further details of the Triwizard Tournament. Though Professor Osset and the faculty had been curiously silent on the matter since its initial announcement, Sean had not forgotten. He felt his stomach do a funny lurch, whether of nerves or excitement he wasn't sure, and continued to scan the sign.

TRIWIZARD ANNOUNCEMENT

"We are pleased to inform you that our Triwizard guests are to arrive from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute on Saturday, 8 October in time for a welcoming feast. At this time, the Goblet of Fire will be erected and submissions for champion will begin. We remind all students that only those sixth and seventh years who are of age will be able to put forth their name for this very dangerous competition. We also remind you that the competition is not only for champions - please be kind, courteous, and welcoming to our guests as we invite them to spend the better part of the year with us at Hogwarts, and remember that establishing strong ties between the magical communities of Europe is the true goal of this historic event."

Well, thought Sean, he hadn't learned much that he didn't know. But at least he was sure now when it would all, finally, begin. He couldn't wait to tell Marlowe, but by the glum look on Caiti's face when she came trudging downstairs again just then, he figured he would have to.

"Idiot," she said. "The one day I actually get up and he decides he's sleeping in."

Sean laughed. Caiti did not reciprocate. They made their way back to Evelyn, who was perched on the arm of a chair, legs stretched out in front of her. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," he agreed.

All through breakfast Sean was very quiet. His head was spinning again, with thoughts of the tournament, but this time, not all of them were excited. He would still put his name in of course, but more and more, he was realizing that this was no longer just a daydream about the future - it was real. He probably wouldn't even be chosen as champion anyway - he had heard Dominic Wilkie, a Slytherin who had always intimidated Sean, was going to put his name in.

But what if he did?

He had always imagined that the moment his name came out of the Goblet of Fire - _if _it did - he would be thrilled. He had imagined himself grinning, slapping people's outstretched hands for high fives as he made his way up the great hall to Professor Osset.

But what if he didn't feel that way? What if he felt the way he felt now at the thought of actually having to compete? Sick to his stomach, a little green: the way he'd felt before his first quidditch game amplified by a thousand.

"What's up with you?" asked Evelyn, eyeing him. He blinked, realized that he'd been staring at his fork without eating for several minutes - the bite of food he had intended to eat had fallen off - and sat up a little straighter, trying to brush it off. "Imagining your eternal glory?" she teased, nudging him.

"What?" he asked. "What- no. I just- I don't know, tired I guess."

"Oh come on, Sean," said Caiti. "You've been acting funny ever since you read that sign."

"Have not," he said indignantly.

"Have too," sang Evelyn. "Come on Sean, we all know you'll be champion. No need to be nervous."

"We do not all know that," he said quietly. "What about Marlowe? What about Dominic Wilkie?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Wilkie looks tough, but he can't stun anything."

"And Marlowe?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"For what it matters," Caiti chimed in, "Marlowe thinks you'll get it too."

For some reason, this did not make Sean feel much better.

"Well," he said, stabbing at his sausage. "I think Marlowe'll get it."

"What do you think the other schools will be like?" asked Caiti, chin in her hand. She had already finished eating.

"I don't know," said Evelyn. "I hope they're friendly. It'd be interesting to become friends with someone who'd gone to school somewhere else. I wonder what sorts of magic they study regularly there that we don't."

"Yeah, well they might not be too keen to share it, seeing as we're in competition with them. Don't want to give away any useful secrets, you know?" Caiti said, thoughtfully.

"Yes, but didn't you read the sign?" asked Evelyn. "The point's not to win, it's to learn from each other and establish new ties."

Caiti gave her a wry smile. "That's what the adults say anyway. Not everyone will think like that."

"Well," said Evelyn, unable to deny this, "I'm going to try to think that way."

"I don't know," Caiti said. "If I know the person who's chosen... I'm going to be thinking of it as a competition first."

Evelyn seemed to realize that Sean had fallen quiet again, because she poked him in the side and said. "This is weird. Since when has it ever been Caiti and I discussing the tournament instead of you and Marlowe?"

"Yeah, well," said Sean. "Marlowe's not here to talk to is he. Wouldn't get out of bed."

Evelyn eyed him for a while in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. She could be searching when she wanted and Evelyn had a good read on people. She could pick out of you exactly the thing you were most trying to hide.

"You know, you don't _have _to enter, Sean," she said.

"I want to," he said firmly. "I'm just tired."

He saw the girls exchange a look, but he said nothing else on the subject.

"Saturday," said Marlowe at lunch, a glint in his eyes. "It's finally happening, isn't it?"

Sean, who had at least temporarily managed to banish that morning's ill feelings - perhaps some of it had to do with the presence of Marlowe - grinned. "Crazy," he agreed.

"One of us is going to get it," said Marlowe, for the dozenth time. Sean wished he wouldn't. He had been feeling guilty ever since Caiti had mentioned that Marlowe thought Sean, and not himself, would be champion. Sean had never once imagined anyone else's name coming out of the cup. Marlowe had been his scheming partner, his person with whom he could paint out elaborate fantasies of what everything would be like. But all those pictures in his head had starred him and not his friend.

What bothered him more than the possibility of self-centeredness was a growing sense that maybe his friends were right. Up until now, he had always - somewhere deep down - banked on the fact that he would never _actually _be champion. It was all a fun dream, a way to pass the time in history of magic when Professor Binns was droning on and on. If all three of them thought he would be chosen...

He didn't want to think about it yet.

He still wanted it. It had just never occurred to him to be scared until today. But he would not let Marlowe see that.

"I wonder how many students they'll bring," he said, interrupting Marlowe's long diatribe about what he thought the tasks might involve.

"Guess it depends how many want to enter doesn't it?" said Marlowe.

"Hope it's a Hogwarts victory, anyway," said Sean, scooping himself some more potatoes.

"Don't we all?" said Marlowe, looking dreamy.

"Is this right?" said Caiti suddenly. Next to Marlowe, Caiti had her charms book open on her lap and her wand out. She had been whispering something over and over again, practicing the wand motion with her finger. She demonstrated the motion again, a look of deepest concentration on her face.

Marlowe put his hand on her shoulder and peered over at the book. "Think so. Try it."

"Can't," she said. "Not exactly a good spell to do in the great hall is it?" She was practicing the Aguamenti charm which would make water spout out of the tip of her wand.

"Why not? Fill up your cup again," he said. She peeked inside to see how much liquid was left. It was about a quarter full.

"Problem is," she said, looking at her wand with a frown, "The couple of times I've actually gotten it to work, I can't get the water to _stop _coming out. I almost flooded the charms classroom last time."

With the image of Caiti and her classmates swimming through the classroom, Caiti's wand still stubbornly streaming out a steady jet of water, Marlowe erupted in silent, shaking laughter, and had to put his head down on the table while he contained himself.

"Shut up," Caiti said, although he had not said anything. She looked at her wand hopelessly.

Sean tipped the last of his pumpkin juice into his mouth and pulled out his own wand. "Watch," he said. "See if I'm doing something differently than you are." He demonstrated the spell and Caiti's eyes grew wide and round.

"Oh," she breathed. She pointed her wand at her own cup and filled it, grinning. "I did it!" she shrieked, clapping her hands together. "Marlowe you can look now. I didn't flood the great hall."

"Shoot," said Marlowe. "Might've gotten me out of Potions if you had."

"What'd you do differently?" asked Sean.

"It's that flick up at the end when you want it to stop," she said excitedly. "That's not in the book. Where'd you learn that?"

He shrugged.

"Well it's genius," she said, tapping her wand in her hand fondly.

Sean shrugged again. "More like instinct, probably."

"Kind of like you with potions," said Marlowe miserably. "Wish I had your instinct there."

"Hey, how'd it ever go with the antidote?" she asked.

"Oh, I think it was alright," he said. His hands had become very busy, fingers drumming on the side of the table or nervously running up and down his thighs. Sean was accustomed to this. Marlowe was an antsy person. He always needed to move.

"Grade coming back today?" she asked, smiling.

He nodded, looking queasy.

"Marlowe, you'll be fine. You made it perfectly with me."

"Yeah," he said, "Key words, with you."

"Well you took good notes and you did most of it yourself. I just pointed out some things that would help," Caiti assured him.

"This," said Sean, looking at Marlowe's face, "Is why I quit potions." Evelyn rolled her eyes.

The end of that week seemed to come even quicker than usual. Before Sean could really process whatever it was he was feeling - doubt? anxiousness? excitement? He wasn't sure - Saturday had come, as would, soon, the delegates from the foreign schools. He awoke early, but did not get out of bed for a long time.

Why was it that as soon as the Triwizard Cup was finally, legitimately in his reach, he was beginning to question whether he wanted it anymore? And that was the question, wasn't it? Did he, Sean, really, honestly want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Yes, he assured himself immediately, maybe even defensively. He wanted this. Of course he wanted this.

But then, he was being stupid anyway. This was all assuming that he was chosen as champion and he probably wouldn't even get it. So what if his friends thought he would. They were his friends. They were _supposed _to think that. They were just being supportive.

But something was keeping him from really thinking that way. He just had this gut feeling, something deeper and more raw than shallow entitlement, that it _was _going to be him.

So then the question was, again, did he really want this?

Sean thought himself in circles coming no nearer an honest answer than he had been when he had first awoken. Only when he heard Marlowe get up in the bed to his right an hour later did he start to get a move on for the day.

They stood at neighboring sinks in the bathroom at the big circular countertop, brushing their teeth. Through a mouthful of toothpaste, Marlowe said, "So, this is it."

Sean spat into the sink, rinsed, and said, "Today's the day."

"You gonna put your name in after the feast tonight or tomorrow morning?"

"Dunno," said Sean, distracted.

"I was thinking tomorrow morning. It'll be more fun when everyone's down there you know."

Sean didn't usually mind being the center of attention all that much. He wasn't shy. But in this instance, he had to disagree with Marlowe. Putting his name in the Goblet of Fire with everyone watching felt like a lot more pressure than he was in the mood for. He didn't say what he actually thought, though. "Yeah," he said. "Definitely better."

At half past four, the students all donned their cloaks and headed outside to watch the arrival of their guests. Evelyn, who was always freezing _without_ being outside, had her hands stuffed inside her sleeves again, and had sidled up to Sean for warmth. The sun had already begun to go down and was hanging low in the sky, casting a lukewarm orangey light over everything. She could see her breath, coming out in puffs of white vapor.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait?" she asked him, bouncing on her toes to keep warm.

Sean pulled her in front of him, hugging her from behind. "Dunno," he said, face right next to hers. She was glad her hair covered how much she had smiled. Unfortunately, though, while Sean hadn't seen, Caiti and Marlowe had. She caught them looking at each other with raised eyebrows and then pretending to vomit with silent, over dramatic hand gestures.

She thought she even heard Caiti whisper, "God, just kiss her already," but she couldn't be sure because at that moment, the lake had begun bubbling up wildly and the crowd around them was chattering loudly, fingers pointing at the place where something seemed to be trying to make its way out of the icy depths of the water.

Evelyn stood on her tiptoes to see over the heads of the people in front of her just in time to catch the mast of a giant ship cut through the surface of the lake, water spilling off around it as it was displaced. Large billowing sails and a gigantic wooden deck followed the mast, and then the first few rows of what seemed to be several floors worth of windows. For a few minutes, water continued to tumble over the edges and Evelyn wondered how it couldn't be flooded, but as soon as it had stopped running off, the boat seemed to be impossibly dry.

Magic, she thought, was truly unbelievable. It still sometimes struck her the way it had seven years ago when she had first entered the wizarding world, when everything had been new and abnormal.

Finding a gap between the heads in the crowd, Evelyn spotted a trapdoor opening to the decks below, from which a thin and rather severe looking blonde woman was emerging.

"Is that the headmistress?" she asked.

"Gotta be," said Sean.

"Couldn't tell you," said Caiti, sounding annoyed. "As I can't see anything." Her head only rose to the shoulders of most of the people around her.

The woman stood by on the deck, waiting for her students - around fifteen, Evelyn guessed, boys and girls all dressed in heavy fur cloaks - to join her. The students looked around curiously, at the grounds and the castle; Evelyn wondered how it compared. Their headmistress waved them towards her and began making her way down a set of wooden steps that had extended from the side of the ship to the ground. The students followed her onto land again and they all approached Professor Osset who smiled warmly at their guests.

Evelyn could not hear what they were saying when the woman reached him, but then, pointing his wand at his throat first, the headmaster spoke in a magically amplified voice. "Will you all join me in welcoming the delegates from Durmstrang Institute and their Headmistress, Professor Petrov." Evelyn clapped along with everyone else, noticing that the Durmstrang students looked rather uncomfortable.

A few people near the front had begun to exchange pleasantries with the newcomers. She could see them shaking hands and asking how their journey was. Only a minute or so passed, however, before everyone's attention was pulled once again, this time towards the skies.

Swooping in over the forest was an ornate carriage, gold and white, pulled by a number of the largest horses Evelyn had ever seen, each of them a stunning palamino. The carriage landed clumsily on the lawn, the horses galloping into a walk until they were able to stop. This time when the headmistress stepped out of the carriage, Evelyn knew Caiti had had no trouble whatsoever seeing her, even over the heads of the people around her for her eyes had gone wide and she had let out a low "Woah." The headmistress had to be the tallest woman Evelyn had ever seen.

"She makes me nervous," Caiti whispered and Marlowe laughed at her.

"Be nice," he said.

She was followed out by her students, adorned in powder blue uniforms and all normal sized. For the second time, Professor Osset went to meet the new arrivals, murmuring a few things to her which Evelyn could not hear. Her tapped his throat with his wand again. "And now, please join me in welcoming our delegates from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime." Everyone broke out into applause once again. Sean with his arms still around Evelyn, clapped in front of her, his hands just underneath her own. She leaned back into him, turned her head, a bunch of red hair catching on his buttons and said, "None of them look very happy, do they?"

Sean frowned, glancing back up at them. "You're right. They don't look to impressed with anything." He looked back at her and Evelyn, realizing how close their faces were, felt heat rising in her face despite the cold. She turned away again to face the newcomers.

They had been outside nearly forty five minutes already and her fingers and toes were numb. She kept scrunching up her nose trying to bring some warmth back to it. It was getting darker outside and the breeze had picked up into a wind. Luckily, Professor Osset was now leading their guests inside and the Hogwarts students had begun to follow at the end of the line.

Sean finally let go of her so she could walk but she wished he hadn't.

Behind her, she heard Marlowe whispering something about making a bet to Caiti. "If they don't get together by the time of the Yule Ball," he was saying, "you have to kiss me."

She heard the sound of a dull slap, the impact taken out by the layers of cold-weather clothing, and a short giggle. "I'm betting it takes till the end of the school year anyway."

Once again, Evelyn was glad Sean did not seem to notice. He was always in his own head, deep in thought about something or other. She had never been more glad of it.


	6. The Goblet of Fire

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Six. The Goblet of Fire.

The mood in the dining hall was particularly boisterous. Marlowe could barely focus on his food, knowing what was coming. He kept shifting his position and glancing up at the faculty table in the hopes that Professor Osset would stand soon to make the announcement. Caiti and Evelyn seemed much more interested in the other students. A few girls from Beauxbatons had sat down with Amelia and her friend Miriam a little ways down the Ravenclaw table. Caiti and Evelyn had been observing them ever since.

"Uh oh, Marlowe," Caiti said suddenly, just as the dinner plates cleared and refilled with desserts. "Don't look over there, Amelia's trying to catch your eye."

"Shoot, hide me," he said.

Caiti leaned forward on the pretense of listening to Sean across the table and Marlowe sunk down low in his seat.

"I don't know what any of this is," Sean was saying, looking blankly at all the desserts.

Evelyn twisted her lips to one side, thinking. "Well, that's creme brulee," she said, pointing to a large dish full of something pale yellow that looked sort of like a flan, it's top lightly browned. "And... that's some sort of a rice pudding. And maybe a custard tart? Couldn't tell you the rest."

Marlowe peered at the various new dishes himself. The whole feast had been unusual, apparently intended to offer some familiarity to the foreign students. He helped himself to a bit of something that he was pretty sure was baked apples, took one small bite and nodded, going back for a larger one.

Sean stared at everything for another minute and then grabbed a spoonful of the same dish Marlowe was now shoveling into his mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, the dessert plates cleared. Marlowe had been hunched over, chin on his hand, silently rushing everyone around him to finish eating. Now he sat bolt upright, attention rapt and directed at Professor Osset who seemed not to have noticed that the plates had emptied themselves, signaling the end of the feast. He seemed to be the only one who hadn't noticed. A hush, broken only by a smattering of anticipatory whispers, had swept across the great hall in only a few seconds. All eyes were turned towards the faculty table where the three heads were finishing up what appeared to be a vibrant conversation.

Finally, Professor Osset turned away from his fellow headmistresses to face the students again. He smiled around at them all, hands clasped in front of him on the table, but did not stand.

Marlowe was about to burst. He waited, hands gripping his thighs just above the knee, for about fifteen seconds before he couldn't take it any longer.

"Hey!" he called loudly. Everyone's heads turned towards him, some shocked or startled, others - mostly those who knew Marlowe - breaking into grins and amused smirks. "We're ready!" he said. The great hall erupted in laughter.

Caiti he noticed, looked a little pink on his behalf, but giggled anyway. Professor Osset seemed not to have minded his potentially rude outburst in front of the guests. He, too, was chuckling to himself. He pushed back his chair and stood. Marlowe grinned and saluted him.

"Yes, yes, of course." said Professor Osset. "I know you're all anxious to hear the details of the reason we're all gathered here tonight. Forgive me for hoping to extend such a truly pleasant evening. I would like to begin by extending once more our warmest welcome to our guests." He beamed around at them all.

"Tonight, as you all very well know, marks the beginning of an exciting event: the Triwizard Tournament. In a week's time we shall know our three champions, three bright, gifted, young students who are sitting in this room tonight, and I'm sure you will give them all your support. But first, I must introduce an old friend of mine, Mr. Robert Fenwick, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry who will explain the rules." He turned back to face a very thin man in shabby robes that looked far too large for him. When he stood, they pooled around his ankles, a few inches too long, and hung off his shoulders where his frame did not fill them. Everyone applauded politely while he made his way to the front of the room.

Despite his less than put together appearance, Mr. Fenwick looked quite proud and business-like. His voice, when he addressed them, was not feeble as Marlowe had expected, but commanding. "Good evening," he said, brandishing his wand from his pocket. "I am here tonight to present to you the Goblet of Fire." He waved his wand and a black sheet flew off a pedestal at the center - Marlowe did not know when it had arrived there, perhaps sometime during the feast when he had been occupied in his potatoes. Underneath was a stone cup, intricately engraved, and quite ancient looking. A hairline crack ran down the front.

"This is, of course, a _powerful, _dangerously _powerful _magical object, the likes of which I warn you against attempting to cross. It's task is to choose from among you, the best and the brightest of each school represented tonight. In a few moments, the cup will ignite in flame, and over the next week, those of you who are of age," he slowed here, punctuating each word, "That is to say, those students of seventeen and older only, who wish to put forth their name for possible selection, may put their names in the cup.

"I want to impress upon you all that, if chosen, there is no backing out. This tournament is not to be taken lightly so please give it deep consideration before submitting your name. Once your name is emitted from the goblet, you are bound to the rules of the tournament and to competing in three extremely dangerous tasks. If you feel you are certain you wish to enter, you may write your name and your school on a slip of paper and drop it into the flames. Next Saturday, the goblet will choose one name from each school."

Marlowe shot Sean an excited grin.

"Now," said Mr. Fenwick, "Let the tournament... begin." He waved his wand once more and the goblet of fire ignited, bright blue flames flaring up from inside the cup. They burned tall for a few moments, flames twisting towards the rafters and the dark, cloudy enchanted sky above them, before settling back down where they continued to flicker steadily.

If Marlowe had been a cartoon, the blue flames would have been reflected in his eyes. He stared at it with a sort of reverence usually reserved for Quidditch or Caiti talking about potions: the two things he had more respect for than almost anything else. Professor Osset stood to make a few closing remarks, but Marlowe, thoughts already drifting towards his imminent victory in the tournament, did not hear any of it.

When the noise level in the hall suddenly rose and everyone began to rise, Marlowe looked at Sean with an excited grin. He could not find the words for what he was feeling. It was an excitement like nothing he had ever felt. Sean grinned back as he stood and they all began to shuffle their way towards the large doors to the entrance hall, stuck in a traffic jam of students, uncomfortably full and ready to find their beds. Caiti yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth.

They were temporarily stalled by a bunch of students from the next table who had just stood and shoved their way into the crowd. "So you're going to do it?" Caiti asked, leaning into Marlowe's side. "You're going to enter?"

Marlowe felt his stomach do a little flip which he decided to pass off on the possibility of being champion, pointedly ignoring the fact that it had happened the moment Caiti had come into contact with him. "You bet," he said, looping his arm over her shoulder. He felt her weight peel away as the crowd began moving again and they continued to edge forward. "What do you think, Sean?" he asked. "Tomorrow morning?"

Sean turned around to grin at him. "Tomorrow morning," he agreed.

Marlowe lay in bed for a long time before he fell asleep. He could not get the image of himself holding the Triwizard Cup out of his head, could not stop hearing the headmaster call out "The Hogwarts Champion is... Marlowe Finnegan!" Every time he thought about dropping his name in the Goblet of Fire, his stomach gave an excited lurch. He kept imagining Caiti's face if he was chosen.

If he were champion, maybe Caiti would...

But Marlowe did not know what he meant to finish that sentence with.

The next morning was gloomy. Rain splattered down the window of the seventh year Ravenclaw boy's dormitory and pounded on the roof of the tower. Marlowe stood looking out the window at a distorted, wet image of the grounds and frowned. They were supposed to have Quidditch practice that afternoon. Their first match was approaching, only a week away now, and his new team was not quite ready yet, in his opinion. He had hoped for a nice, clear day for a long practice to get things sorted, but he supposed a little training in the weather could be useful too. If they could keep themselves in order today, then they'd be in good shape for what would hopefully be a much better flying day next week.

He meandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth, feeling groggy and under-rested. He had sleep in the corner of his eyes and his hair was unsalvageable. It was not until he was toweling off after his shower that he realized what he had awoken so early on a Saturday for: the Goblet of Fire.

All at once, Marlowe's sluggish morning shuffle turned into a spunky, jaunty walk. He passed Sean back in their room, just now rolling out of bed.

"Morning!" he said brightly.

"Morning," yawned Sean, eyes screwed up.

"Don't take too long, alright?"

Sean shot him a look, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. "I'll take however much time I like, thanks," he said.

Marlowe finished getting dressed and ready and then sat on his bed, trying to go over his plans for the practice that afternoon, but he couldn't focus. His thoughts were on one thing only and that was getting his name in the cup. Finally, he put the notes away and headed downstairs in the hopes that Caiti or Evelyn would come downstairs soon. Sure enough, Evelyn was sitting by the window in a navy plaid armchair, her long red hair swept up into a knot sitting on the crown of her head. Marlowe could not understand how she managed to fit all her hair into it.

"Hey Ev," he said, sliding into the chair opposite her.

"Morning," she smiled. "Sean's not up yet?"

"He's up, still getting ready," said Marlowe, drumming his fingers on the table. "Caiti up?"

"Don't know," said Evelyn, looking back out the window. "I didn't check her room."

Marlowe was getting antsy. He kept shifting his position, and glancing towards the entrances to the girl's and boy's dormitories. He and Evelyn didn't often talk alone. They were good friends, and he liked her very much, but they were friends by association with a shared best friend. If it were not for Sean, he and Evelyn would not likely have been more than friendly acquaintances.

"Pretty out there, isn't it?" she said, tracing one finger down the wiggly line left by a raindrop on the other side of the window pane.

"Pretty from in here," he agreed. "I've got Quidditch practice, though."

"Ask Caiti if she can make that potion to warm you back up when you come inside. Don't remember what it's called."

Marlowe knew the one she was talking about. Caiti had made it for him and Sean once the previous year when it had snowed during a Quidditch game and they come inside shivering convulsively. Caiti had confessed that she had not managed to sit through the whole game in the frigid air, but she had at least put herself to good use. The potion was ready for them when they got off the field and he had felt immensely better the moment it had hit his tasted like Christmas: like cinnamon and cloves and chocolate oranges.

"Yeah, maybe," he said thoughtfully.

Evelyn leaned her head against the window and looked at him. He wondered if she felt as uncomfortable as he did. "So you're all ready?" she asked. "To put your name in?"

He pulled a small slip of parchment out of his pocket on which he had written:

_Marlowe Finnegan_

_Hogwarts_

Evelyn peered at it and smiled. He stuck it back into his pocket. "I can't believe you two are actually going through with this," she said. "Aren't you scared at all?"

Marlowe shrugged. "Not really."

There were footsteps on the steps behind them and then Marlowe heard a yawn-stifled voice say "Morning, Ev." Sean had just come downstairs.

"Morning," Evelyn smiled. Sean squeezed her shoulder in greeting. She opened her mouth and said something but Marlowe did not hear it because another, louder sound had just broken the quiet in the common room.

There was a loud, high pitched shriek of surprise, a heavy thud followed by a few more smaller thuds, then a few seconds of complete silence, before a loud, fast, unmistakable laugh.

They all three turned their heads and Marlowe saw Caiti, legs sprawled out in front of her, lying on her back halfway down the stairs with her head thrown back, laughing. He jumped up to help her, Sean and Evelyn following a few steps behind.

She sat up as he approached, tears in her eyes. "What happened?" he asked. He held out both hands to help her up.

"Well," said Caiti. "You know how it's a spiral staircase?" She took his hands and let him pull her to standing. "I stepped too close to the smaller part of the wedge and slipped," she said, still fighting back laughter. She let go of one of his hands to rub a spot on her back. "Ow," she said, grinning.

"You alright?" he asked, all too aware of the fingers of her other hand lingering loose and absent-minded in his.

"Yeah," she said. "Just an idiot." Her hand dropped away from his.

He mussed up her hair with a laugh, and Caiti ducked out from underneath, moving her own hands to her head for protection as she started for the door.

"Well, Sean, what do you say?" said Marlowe, turning around. "Shall we get this show on the road?"

"Let's," he agreed.

Several minutes later, the four of them entered the great hall, Marlowe in the lead and heading for the front of the hall where the Triwizard Cup burned blue. The further they walked, the more heads turned and followed their progress. Marlowe felt a grin growing on his face and an excitement bubbling up in his stomach like he felt just before a quidditch match. At the end of the long tables, Evelyn and Caiti hung back, and he and Sean approached the cup. "Together?" asked Marlowe. He felt jittery and almost outside himself.

"Together," agreed Sean.

They stepped over the age line drawn around the cup to ensure that no one broke the age restriction.

"One," said Sean, holding his own bit of parchment up to the fire. The blue flames seemed to swell a little in anticipation.

"Two" said Marlowe. They looked at each other.

"Three," they said together. Marlowe opened his hand and dropped his name into the cup. The hall broke out into a smattering of applause and a few people yelled out words of encouragement or congratulations. Caiti gave Marlowe a little side hug as he reached her again. He felt light and funny, still not quite present. All the way down the Ravenclaw table, people reached out their hands to shake or high five.

"I hope you get it, Marlowe!" called Amelia, scrambling for his attention. He found that, for once, he did not mind.

"Tell you what, Caiti," he said when they had sat down. He could not wipe the grin off his face. He felt a certain fulfillment after so many years of waiting to do this, not to mention a sort of reckless, confidence, even a little arrogance. "I've got a new bet for you."

"Alright, let's hear it," said Caiti.

"If my name comes out of that cup," he said, "You kiss me."

Caiti raised her eyebrows, a tiny smile on her lips.


	7. The Champions

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Seven. The Champions.

On Friday night, Caiti tied her Ravenclaw scarf around her neck and met Evelyn in the common room so they could head down to the Quidditch match together, Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor. "I really hope we win," said Evelyn. "Sean says Gryffindor's got a good team this year. He's nervous about it."

"They'll be alright," said Caiti. "They can hold their own."

"I'd just hate to see them come second again for the cup," Evelyn said.

Caiti nodded her agreement. It had practically killed Marlowe when Ravenclaw had lost their final game last year, putting them just behind the Gryffindor team. It had been a close race all year but a few flukes had thrown everything for them. He had moped for the entire end of term.  
But then, Caiti, fresh from her breakup with Theo, had been moping too so they had been well paired.

The entrance hall was full of students from all four houses making their way out to the Quidditch pitch. They squeezed their way through the crowd and out the front doors, hoping to find good seats before everyone else could take them. Caiti noticed a good number of the foreign students seemed to be headed to the match as well. She had hardly seen them since they had come to the feast. She had nearly forgotten they were there.

"Wonder who they'll be cheering for?" Caiti said, watching a small group of Beauxbatons students cross the lawn.

"Maybe they'll sit near us and we can encourage Ravenclaw," said Evelyn.

They wedged themselves into seats at the front where enough room for the two of them remained. Caiti glanced around them, but no foreign students seemed to have taken seats nearby. She found herself looking around subconsciously for Theo and then remembered he was on the team now.

"Shoot," she whispered.

"What?" asked Evelyn.

"What happens if we win? Or if Theo gets the snitch?" Deep creases formed between Caiti's eyebrows.

Evelyn frowned. "What do you mean? If we win... we win."

"No, I mean, what am I supposed to do?" she asked. "Am I supposed to congratulate him or... or... just ignore him?"

"Congratulate him," said Evelyn easily. "Nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say," mumbled Caiti.

"All I'm saying is you've got every right to be nice to him. Breaking up doesn't mean you can't acknowledge each other. Besides, it's not as though you won't have other people to talk to."

"Like who?" said Caiti. "You and Sean'll be plenty occupied on your own."  
Evelyn looked a little pink and Caiti did not think it was from the cold. "Like Marlowe," she said with a knowing look.

"Shut up," said Caiti. Evelyn gave her a pretentious little smile. "What's that supposed to mean anyway?" asked Caiti, looking at Evelyn as though she were something unpleasant, like a squashed flobberworm.

"If you don't already know," said Evelyn, "then you're on your own."

Caiti chose not to respond to this.

The stands were almost full now. There were only a few minutes until the game was scheduled to begin.

"God, I'm nervous for tomorrow too," said Evelyn.

"Mm, yeah," said Caiti, nodding. Saturday night was to be the feast at which the champions were selected and announced. "What do you think'll happen?"

Evelyn shook her head. "I just don't know. It's so hard to say, isn't it?"

Caiti shrugged. "I mean you can't really ever know. But I just can't stop thinking it'll be Sean. Wish it were Marlowe though. He hasn't really let on, but I think he wants it more than he says."

"I think Sean wants it less than he says," said Evelyn, looking worried.

"I know," said Caiti, but she had no time to say more because the Gryffindor team had just emerged from the other side of the stadium, broomsticks under their arms. A few seconds later, Marlowe emerged, dressed in his blue Quidditch robes and headed for the center of the pitch where he would shake hands with the Gryffindor captain.

The rest of the team joined them, then Professor Keir, the flying coach, sent them rising up into the air and released the balls. At his whistle, the match began. Caiti watched Theo soar up above the rest of the match to keep a lookout for the snitch out of the way, but she tore her eyes away and found Marlowe instead.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle. Think that's Andrea Abernathy, but it's hard to tell. They do fly rapidly, don't they?" came a magically amplified voice from somewhere to their left.

Caiti snorted. "Didn't know Bill was commentating again. This'll be interesting," she told Evelyn. Bill was a Gryffindor in her year who she had had a running joke war with ever since they had first sat next to each other in Muggle Studies in their third year. They had never been more than friendly acquaintances but she appreciated his sense of humor and generally upbeat personality. Once last year he had filled in for a seventh year who had commentated the Quidditch matches all along and apparently, he had done well enough to merit the position permanently now his predecessor had graduated.

"And she's heading for Ravenclaw keeper Sean O'Connell, she's ready to shoot and... oh, missed it by inches!" said Bill, his voice magically amplified over the noise of the crowd.

Caiti and Evelyn screamed loudly, clapping their gloved hands together, hard. Caiti saw Marlowe, grinning, take a heavy hit at a nearby bludger, smacking it towards a chaser who was already hoping to steal the Quaffle.

"Yes, a nice save there from O'Connell who's just passed the quaffle to his teammate Marcie who passes again. That's newcomer Eddie Kirkland if I'm not mistaken. And he's heading for the other side of the pitch – nice dodge of that well-aimed bludger from Gryffindor beater Peter Brown. And the scoring begins with ten-zero to Ravenclaw. That's ten-zero to Ravenclaw. Kirkland with the first goal of the day."

Caiti clapped loudly. She glanced up to where Theo was still zigzagging above his teammates, peering down through squinted eyes for the snitch, and then at Marlowe, flying by Eddie with his arm outstretched for a high five. Things were looking good.

But despite the Ravenclaw team's strong start, Gryffindor was good. Not long after Eddie Kirkland's goal, a bludger came soaring at Marcie Pritchard, who had just stolen the quaffle mid pass from the opposing team, knocking it out of her hands. A tiny blonde girl who could not have been older than second year had been flying a ways underneath Marcie and now shot up and caught the quaffle before anyone else realized what had happened. She zoomed away to the other side of the goal posts and threw the quaffle so hard and fast that even though Sean managed to get a piece of it, it still whizzed through his outstretched hands and into the center hoop. The crowd of red and gold roared.

"Shoot!" said Caiti, smacking her thighs in frustration.

"That's ten-ten, Eleanor Knight, tying up the game. Show 'em who's boss! Er- I mean, a nice strategy there from Gryffindor!" said Bill over the magically magnified megaphone

Marlowe whizzed by Sean and shouted something at him that Caiti couldn't quite make out over the October wind. She saw her brother give a sharp nod, face set.

Theo had abandoned his post high above the stadium and had soared below the rest of the match instead. She saw him glancing up often, keeping tabs on the Gryffindor seeker who had remained above the game to keep a lookout. Over his head, Marcie, Elodie, and Eddie were flying in a tight triangle, holding their positions as they maneuvered bludgers and other players like a flock of birds. Eddie, at the center of the little group held the quaffle tightly. They approached the hoops where the keeper was ready for them.

Out of nowhere, Eddie and Marcie shot off towards the right hoop, and the keeper followed, missing the fact that Eddie had, at the last second, handed the quaffle to Elodie who now had a free shot at the other two hoops. As she extended her arm backward to chuck it through the goal, one of the chasers from the other team shot towards her, tilted forward on their broom for speed, but just before he reached her, Clara hit a bludger at the boy which he saw out of the corner of his eye and had to change course to avoid.

The quaffle soared through the hoop.

Caiti and Evelyn stood up with the rest of their house to applaud this superb bit of chasing. Caiti's heart was pounding. This was going to be an excruciating match if someone did not catch the snitch soon. Their chasers were so well matched, the beaters so in sync with the needs of their team, and the keeper's eyes always darting around after the quaffle.

"And Ravenclaw retaliates with a nice play – you can see those brains coming to good use with a tactic like that! Ravenclaw back in the lead! That's twenty-ten to Ravenclaw! And Gryffindor back in possession." Bill shouted over the Ravenclaw supporters' cheers.

Caiti laughed as she sat back down.

"That's right we put our brains to good use," said Evelyn determinedly. Her eyes were on Sean who was now anticipating a shot from Gryffindor. Caiti's eyes, however, had gone to Marlowe who had stopped flying and hung in midair. She followed his gaze just in time to catch Theo shooting upward. He blasted right through a pack of chasers as though it were nothing, eyes on something she could not see. The Gryffindor seeker cottoned on too and took off after him, but Theo had an impressive start.

"What's this?" said Bill. "It looks like the seekers have spotted something... and... sure enough! That's Ravenclaw seeker Theodore Burney with the snitch. Final score of a hundred and seventy to ten!" shouted Bill. The end of the game had come so suddenly that Caiti was not alone in taking a few extra seconds to realize what had happened. Soon though, a hum bubbled up in the crowd, growing into a deafening roar. The Ravenclaw team had all flown up to Theo who still had the snitch clutched in his right fist, held high in the air. They all surrounded him cheering loudly and grinning. The Gryffindors flew sadly back to the ground, the seeker shaking his head in frustration.

Caiti shoved her way through the crowd, Evelyn at her heels, hoping to find their friends when they landed before the crowd took them over. Sure enough, they had barely a head start on the rest of their house who was pouring onto the field.

The team made their way awkwardly to the crowd in a pack, faces rosy with delight. The second Marlowe was off his broom, Caiti hurtled towards him, hugging him tight. "You were _amazing!" _she grinned as she stepped back from him. He just looked at her, mouth partly open, eyes still smiling, as though he was at a complete loss for words in his joy. After a minute he said, almost breathless, "There were scouts here. I saw them in the stands."

Sure enough, she saw a few very athletic looking wizards approaching behind Marlowe's back.

"Turn around," she said hastily, giving him an excited nudge.

Marlowe turned and glanced back at her with a look of pure delight and eager anticipation on his face, happier than a kid at Christmas.

Caiti fell back from him, knowing he would tell her everything later. She thought she'd find Sean and Evelyn again, and it turned out they weren't hard to find. Just a short ways behind her, Evelyn was kissing Sean on the cheek, and he was grinning, rather pink in the face. Caiti decided not to intrude, and turned instead to find Theo approaching her. He was grinning from ear to ear and people kept patting him on the back and shaking his hand as he made his way to her. He acknowledged each of them with thanks but did not stop on his course.

"Hey," he said when he was standing in front of her.

Caiti did not know what to say. She stood there for a full thirty seconds in silence, watching his grin fall slightly before she remembered what Evelyn had said. Breaking up did not mean she could not be kind.

"Congratulations," she said hoisting her own smile back up on her face. "You were really great." She hoped her voice sounded genuine. She did mean what she said.

"Thanks," he said, looking relieved. "I uh... I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it."

"Well you did," she said, and then without hesitating, she hugged him too, although it was much briefer than with Marlowe.

Just after this, someone else grabbed his attention, saving Caiti from having to deal with the fact that the way she fit into Theo's arms was still much, much too familiar.

There was a great celebration in the common room that night and Caiti had to wait a long time to hear what news Marlowe had. She had tried to ask once early on, but they had been surrounded by people at the time and he had shook his head.

Finally, the common room had cleared out of most of the younger students. A good handful of people still remained, but it was easy enough now for Marlowe to slip away. He beckoned each of his three friends to follow him and they slipped up the stairs to the study area together where it would be more private.

"So," said Caiti anxiously, "What happened?"

The other two looked confusedly between them. They had not seen the scouts approaching Marlowe.

He explained how he had seen them in the crowds and how they had turned up to talk to him after the match. "And then," he said, "They asked if I was the captain and said they were impressed at the way I'd coached the team and at the skill of the players working together."

He was speaking very fast as though the words had been bridged on the tip of his tongue for so long, bursting to come out, that now they were on their way they could not help spilling, pouring out with abandon. "Said they could always use a head like mine for anticipating what might happen and how to use it in your favor. And then," he paused, sucking in a deep breath. His chest swelled. "They said they'd like to come back to the other games this year, and if we continue to play like that, then they'll... they'll put in a word for me when I try-out, help me get on the team." He was positively beaming.

"That's incredible! Congratulations, Marlowe!" said Evelyn.

"What team was it?" asked Sean, while Caiti, mouth open in joyful incredulity, raised her hand for a high five. Marlowe smacked her hand happily, clasping their fingers at the top. He squeezed her hand and let go, looking back at Sean.

"The Ballycastle Bats!" he said.

_"Wow," _breathed Sean. The Ballycastle Bats, as they all knew perfectly well, were the second best team in the league, second only to the Montrose Magpies. Though the O'Connell siblings had grown up supporters of the Kenmare Kestrals, Caiti knew both boys had long admired the Bats for their superb ability. Caiti thought briefly, that she would be perfectly happy to switch to supporting a new team if her best friend were a part of it.

"Well," she said, "Sean you hadn't better let in anymore goals, alright? And Marlowe, you better be the best captain this school has ever seen. You're not losing this chance."

Marlowe nodded at her, a determined, hard glint in his eyes. "That's right," he said.

In the excitement of the Quidditch match, which lasted late into the next morning, though it was nothing of the previous night's celebration, Sean had forgotten to feel nervous about what was to happen on Saturday evening. It was not until he was sat in the Great Hall at lunch that he looked up towards the staff table absent-mindedly, caught sight of the Goblet of Fire, and remembered.

Of course. The selection of the champions.

_That _was why everyone was still buzzing excitedly all morning. It wasn't quidditch they were thinking of. It was the tournament.

He felt butterflies stir in his stomach, nothing so pleasant as the ones he had felt the night before when Evelyn had kissed him on the cheek. These were acidic. He lost his appetite all at once and sat there staring blankly at the goblet of fire for a long time, slouched in his seat, until Evelyn waved a hand in front of his face and said, "Stop gaping. Not much longer to wait." He forced a smile, but said nothing.

Contrary to Evelyn's suggestion, he did have long to wait. The afternoon dragged by as though someone had cast an impediment jinx on it. Neither he nor Marlowe were able to get much work done with the heads focused on the Goblet of Fire. Caiti had scrawled out an entire essay, two feet long, on the use of nonverbal spells before Sean had translated even one of the six runes he'd been assigned.

Finally, though, the evening did arrive, and Sean, with the feeling of a six hundred pound weight dropped in his stomach, slugged his way to dinner with his friends, feeling somehow outside himself and horribly aware of his own fragile substance all at once.

The noise in the great hall that evening was louder than he could ever remember it, but Sean barely said a word. Marlowe more than made up for his silence, however, talking a mile a minute about all the possible tasks he could think of and trying to guess, by looking around the great hall, who the other school's champions would be.

Everyone seemed to be eating at top-speed, shoveling food into their mouths as fast as they could in the hopes of arriving at the part of the night they were all anxious for more quickly. Across the table, Caiti kept glancing back and forth between Marlowe, himself, and the Goblet of Fire. Marlowe was drumming his fingers on his knees, and frowning, his perfectly clean plate sitting in front of him, forgotten.

Sean wished the meal would drag on longer. He kept scooping up bites of food, only to tip his fork back over and let it all fall off again, over and over. He could not eat. His stomach was twisted into too many knots. Evelyn nudged him and said, quietly so no one else would hear, "You okay?"

Sean looked up at her. He nodded, but could not bring himself to say anything.

She gave him a weak smile, perhaps knowing that she could no longer even offer him the consolation that he did not have to do it if he didn't want to. His name was in the cup – if it came back out, he was stuck.

She seemed to have read his mind, as usual, because she scooted closer and put her arm around him. "No matter what," she said, "You'll be fine. And I'm proud of you."

Sean could not look at her.

Too soon, the headmaster stood, making his way towards the Goblet of Fire. Evelyn dropped her arm from around him as they all turned to look.

"It is almost time," began Professor Osset, "to discover the identities of our three champions. An exciting moment this is, as you all know, I'm sure. And I want to say first that we are all so glad that so many of you put your name in the cup this year and that, though only one from each school may be chosen, each of you has your own unique abilities and talents. Please do not forget that. Each of you, I'm sure, would make a worthy champion, which makes me very glad that it is not my job to decide who will receive the honor of competing, but that of our impartial judge.

"I have one last piece of instruction for our champions, whoever you might be – once chosen, if you would please make your way to the front of the room and through the side door next to which Professor Munslow is standing just now." Professor Munslow waved a cheery hand from over by the side chamber. "And now, as I'm sure you're all as anxious to hear what our judge has to say, we shall turn our attention over to it."

He turned to face the cup, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

The cup, as if it had heard the headmaster finish speaking, flared red.

Sean's heart was pounding in his chest, rattling against his ribs like it was trying to get out. At the sight of the first slip of paper, which flew out the top of the flame, unburnt, and landed lightly in Professor Osset's hand, he felt something in his stomach that he had not felt the whole week: desire.

He was not stupid enough to say that the thought of competing in the tournament did not terrify him, but he remembered, all of a sudden, what it felt like to want to do it anyway.

"The Beauxbatons champion is..." called out the headmaster in a ringing voice. The hall had gone completely silent, waiting with bated breath. "Oscar Durand!"

A pale boy with a long, pointed nose and a shock of dark hair stood from the Hufflepuff table looking smug. Everyone clapped, regardless of their school, though the Beauxbatons students certainly clapped the loudest.

"We could beat him," shouted Marlowe over the noise, grinning at Sean. "Looks a bit of a prat, doesn't he?"

Sean could not answer. He did not want Marlowe to be chosen. He did not want anyone else's name to be chosen. He wanted to hear his own name. When the applause had died down, he looked back at the cup, anxiously, hoping that Hogwarts would be next.

The cup flared red a second time and another slip of parchment landed in Professor Osset's hand. He unfolded it and read, "The Durmstrang champion is... Eline Halvorson."

This time a girl stood from the Slytherin table. She had a pretty face but was quite solid and stocky. She stood up, looking triumphant. All the Durmstang students stood, scattered around the room, pumping their fists in the air and shouting support for their champion. Eline marched her way up to the front, nodding to Professor Osset. Her head was held high as she entered the side room where Oscar Durand had appeared.

The Durmstrang students sat again and the air in the room became palpable and tense in a second. The next name was the Hogwarts champion. This was it. Without thinking, Sean grabbed Evelyn's hand under the table, squeezing hard. He did not look at her.

For the last time, the flames turned bright red, shot up a foot or so, and propelled out one last slip of paper. Sean deluded himself that it looked the same shape as the one he had dropped in himself, as though he could actually tell from this distance. Professor Osset grabbed the slip of parchment, unfolded it and – Sean swore his eyes flicked towards the Ravenclaw table before he read it – said, "The Hogwarts Champion is... Sean O'Connell!"

Sean stood quickly and clumsily, knocking over his glass in his haste. He felt shocked and elated at once, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Every ounce of dread Sean had felt that week at the possibility of being champion drained out of him in an instant. Evelyn had thrown his arms around him and was saying something in his ear that he could not hear over the noise. The entire Ravenclaw table had risen to their feet, along with many of the members of other houses. Over Evelyn's shoulder, he saw the members of the staff beaming at him as they clapped.

Evelyn let go and gave him a little push, her eyes bright and shining. She looked beautiful. He wanted to kiss her. He could do it. Now would be an ideal moment. It would not be weird.

But she said, "Go!" still beaming at him, and he had no choice but to make his way up the aisle and towards the door Professor Munslow held open. His ears pounded in his head and he felt lighter than he had all week. The roar of the collected students did not die down until long after Sean had entered the side room, but when the door shut behind him, he could no longer hear it.

He stood just inside the door, stunned. The room, empty but for Elise and Oscar, was silent.

He had done it. He was champion.


	8. The Celebration

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Eight. The Celebration.

In the side-room, Sean stepped dully towards the other two champions and said a jumbled "congratulations" to them, blinking hard. He still did not feel quite present. His hands were shaking invisibly and he felt a buzzing in his head and around his jaw.

The boy from Beauxbatons, Oscar, returned the compliment, but the girl - who Sean decided now was quite scary up close - merely looked at him. Her dark eyes were heavily lined in charcoal and her cheeks were hollow. She was striking, but not in Evelyn's sweet, girl-next-door sort of way. She intimidated him. He could see already why she had been chosen as champion. Oscar, on the other hand, did not look the part. Sean had to assume that he was a particularly talented wizard, because he looked like he had never done a minute of physical activity in his life. He looked pampered. He meant to say something else, to ask them something - he did not know what - but the door opened again at that moment and he supposed they would have to chat later.

A beaming Professor Osset strode towards them, followed by Madame Maxime and Professor Pavlov, who immediately went to their own students to congratulate them. Sean's head of house, Professor Westwick, was close behind. He was a bespectacled man with a sharp, to the point way of speaking, but a rather parental nature all the same. He wrung Sean's hand, grinning and said over and over how happy he was that a Ravenclaw had been chosen while Mr. Fenwick - looking even more sickly than he had the previous weekend - and someone else Sean did not recognize filed into the room. The door shut behind them and everyone turned to face Professor Osset. Professor Westwick left his hand on Sean's shoulder.

"Well," said the headmaster, hands pressed together in a manner that very much resembled a person who had just been presented with their very favorite treat. "I think there can be no question that the goblet of fire has made three exceptional choices this year. I'm sure you're all anxious to go and celebrate with your friends so we will not deprive the remaining delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang" - he nodded at Oscar and Eline in turn - "or the students of Ravenclaw house," - he nodded, now, at Sean, with an extra twinkle in his eye - "a chance to celebrate for much longer. We must however, offer a few pieces of instruction before you leave here for the night.

"You'll remember Mr. Fenwick," he said gesturing in his direction. The bags under Mr. Fenwick's eyes were illuminated cruelly in the dim glow of the torches hung on the walls. Sean noticed a very small badge pinned to his lapel. It glinted gold when he moved. He could not read what it said, but the badge itself looked to be a full moon.

"But you have not yet met our Head of the Department of Magical Sports and Games, Mr. Boris Catchlove." The man Sean had not recognized raised a hand. He was a much taller man than Mr. Fenwick, and certainly filled out his robes much better. His stomach was a little rotund now, but Sean could tell he had been an athletic and able-bodied man in his day.

"Both these men will be joining the three of us headmasters as judges for the tournament," continued Professor Osset, "and have played a huge part in the planning of this tournament. We owe them much thanks for their work, of course, but there will be time for that later. Now, we must hear from Mr. Catchlove about the first task."

Sean glanced at the other two champions, neither of whom seemed to have expected that they would be thrown into the logistics of the tournament so quickly. He felt something knot up in his stomach again, but pushed it away. The task was not happening yet. There was still time.

"Thanks for that introduction," said Mr. Catchlove jovially. "This'll only be but a minute. Not got much I can tell you just yet. May I first offer my own congratulations to the three of you. This'll be an exciting tournament and I'm sure you're all well fit for the tasks we've set in store for you.

"Your first task will take place on the first Saturday in November at seven o'clock. It is designed to test your ability to keep your head under pressure and to use your wit and knowledge as much as your magical ability. Beyond that, the task is, of course, a surprise. You will be notified of the specifics that day. I urge you to prepare in any way you see necessary, be that.. Well I shouldn't give you any hints, should I?" he said, grinning around at them all.

"As I say, you can prepare however you would like to, but you will not know what it is you'll be facing until the day of the task. Each of you will be awarded points out of ten by the five judges and the winner will have a slight advantage over the other two competitors in the second task." He paused, glancing at Mr. Fenwick. "That's all is it, Robbie? Nothing I've forgotten?"

Mr. Fenwick shook his head very slightly. "No, I think that covers it."

"Well, then, " said Professor Osset. "You've heard all we can tell you just yet, now, off to your celebrations. I'm sure your friends and peers are anxiously awaiting your return. Congratulations again."

Sean shook hands with the other two champions and they all filed out of the little room, the adults chatting happily. Sean could not decide how he felt. The terror from earlier had seeped back in just enough to notice at the talk of the first task. November was not very far away. He had less than a month to prepare and no idea what he was preparing for. But he had not forgotten the feeling of his entire house on their feet, of Evelyn's arms around him, her excited voice in his ear. Of applause ringing through the great hall at a decibel he had never heard, even at a Quidditch match.

He took his time walking back up to Ravenclaw tower, content to be with his own thoughts on the matter for a few minutes extra, but he could not put off entering forever. He lifted the knocker on the door, preparing to answer the usual riddle, but was surprised to hear the voice ask, not a difficult question, but a personal one. "Who," it said, the hint of a smile in it's voice, "is the Hogwarts champion?"

"I am," said Sean, alarmed. He had never known the door to have any kind of personality or interest in the students.

But there was no time to dwell on this, because the door had swung open and, immediately upon seeing Sean, people began to shepherd him through. An upsurge of noise hit him like a blow to they face as they all cheered and clapped again at the sight of their champion.

Someone had drawn a cartoon version of himself holding the triwizard cup in his hands and grinning. It was magically amplified so that it covered nearly the whole wall opposite the door where it hung. The pencilled Sean kept lifting the cup over his head in triumph and posing with it arrogantly, as if for a photo-op. The real Sean felt sick and embarrassed about this. He made a pointed effort not to look at it, although this was a difficult task seeing as it was so large.

The whole of Ravenclaw house seemed to want a moment with him. Sean barely recognized the people shaking his hand and congratulating him, asking what he had learned in the side room, if they had announced what the first task would be. He looked around, hoping to find a familiar face.

Caiti was there first. "I swear!" she half screamed, forcing her way towards him. "If you die in this stupid tournament I will never forgive you. Mom is going to have a _fit _when she hears." But she hugged him tight and grabbed his forearm, pulling him through the crowd with some difficulty to where Evelyn and Marlowe were waiting. Marlowe dropped the custard cream in his hand and lifted his right hand forcefully, ready for a high five.

Sean grinned for the first time since he had entered the room and smacked hands with his best friend. He had not realized until he saw Marlowe that he had been nervous for this moment. Relief flooded through him when he recognized that Marlowe was not, it appeared, angry with or jealous of him. "Knew you'd get it, man," he said. Sean saw the slightest hint of disappointment cross over Marlowe's eyes but his tone was genuine anyhow.

"Thanks," said Sean. He sucked in a deep breath, shoulders rising, and let it out all at once. He looked at Evelyn. She tipped her head to the right, smiling at him, and then, shaking her head a little, she sidled over to hug him again, this time with much less urgency. She looped her arms under his so that her hands came up around the backs of his shoulders and her cheek was turned into his chest.

"I'm really proud of you," she said. "You're going to be amazing."

She pulled back, looking him right in the eye. He felt it for the second time that night, that urge to kiss her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. What if she didn't feel the same way? Now he was in the tournament for certain, he needed his friends more than ever, and Evelyn especially - her cool, collected manner, her simple way of reassuring him, her constant, effortless support. No, he could not risk messing up with her now.

"Sean," said Caiti in a sing-song voice. "Pumpkin pasties, your favorite." She swam a pasty in front of his face and, laughing, he reached out to take it, realizing how little he had managed to eat at the feast.

"Come on, let's go sit down," said Marlowe. All the seats were taken but a bunch of first years scattered from the couch by the window as soon as they saw Sean heading over. It was lucky Evelyn, whose head was turned, had not seen this, because Sean knew she would have insisted that they keep their place and he really needed to sit down a minute and process.

People kept coming up to him to ask what he'd been told in the side room, to ask how he felt, and to speculate that he would win. His account of the brief conversation with the headmaster and the ministry men became more watered down with every retelling. By the time the common room had mostly cleared out, it was past two in the morning and he was exhausted.

Caiti lay slumped over on Marlowe's shoulder, eyes heavy. Marlowe himself kept yawning. Sean felt like if he did not sleep soon he would not be able to wake up for at least two days, but still, he was happy just to sit here. He was not quite ready to be alone yet. None of them spoke, even after the last person had gone up to bed.

The gigantic pencil Sean on the wall continued to raise his doodly triwizard cup and shake it in triumph, though much more feebly now.

Caiti yawned widely, sitting up. "Think I'll go to bed, too," she said. Her dark blonde hair was flattened on one side where it had been pressed into Marlowe's shoulder and there was a red spot on her temple.

Marlowe nodded his agreement. "You coming?" he asked Sean as he and Caiti stood.

"In a few minutes," he said. "You go ahead."

They both retreated up to their respective dormitories. Evelyn remained with Sean. Neither of them spoke for a while. Finally Evelyn looked at him and said, "How do you really feel?" She looked worried.

Sean looked up, thinking hard. "Okay," he said finally. "I feel okay."

"Are you.. Are you happy?" she asked. "That you were chosen?"

He nodded. "I am," he said.

"But you're scared?" Her voice was very quiet. _She _was scared, he knew.

Sean nodded again but said nothing.

"I don't blame you," she said. "You'd be an idiot not to be. Mind you, you're a bit of an idiot anyway for putting you name in, but I'll forgive that."

Sean laughed. "Thanks, I suppose."

She smiled. Her eyes were alight. "And Sean," she continued, "You know you're not really alone in this right? I mean, I realize it's up to you when the tasks actually come around, but you don't really have to do it by yourself." Her voice was low and her words spilled out quickly, a little desperately.

"I know, Ev," he said, smiling just a little. She rolled her lips together, eyes wide and still sparkling the way they did when she felt strongly about something, one way or another. "And," he added. "I promise that if I need help, I know who to go to." She relaxed.

"We should probably get some sleep too," she said.

"Yeah," he said quietly. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and tucked her a shock of red hair behind her ear. Her lips parted a little in surprise and she mirrored his movement with her own hand, brushing over the same place his hand had been seconds earlier.

"Yeah," he said again, and then he looked away from her , shaking his head slightly. In his periphery he saw Evelyn drop her hand. He stood and offered his hand to help her up, not looking at her directly this time.

"Goodnight," she said. He saw her trying to catch his eye, peering at him from under long, thick eyelashes.

He looked down at her one last time. "Goodnight," he said. He gave her a brief hug, fingers of one hand grazing her lower back, and then he headed upstairs, a funny feeling in his stomach that he could not place.

Marlowe sat in potions the following Monday, stirring his cauldron without paying much attention to what he was doing. He would probably spoil the entire potion, but he did not much care. He felt distracted. This was the first he had really been away from Sean since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire and he hadn't yet decided how he felt about it.

He was happy for his friend, he knew that. He was glad one of them had gotten it, as they had always planned. But it had been hard, while he was standing next to Sean, sharing in his glory by association, to recognize that it was not Marlowe they cared about. All day, people had congratulated Sean with Marlowe standing right next to him. And each time, it had sunk in just a little more that his days of dreaming about competing in the Triwizard Tournament were over.

He felt very glum about it, and not even the thought of what Caiti would say if she saw the state his potion was in now could stop him sitting there feeling sorry for himself. He wanted to get it all out before he had to see Sean again that night. He did not want him to know he was jealous. Sean had never been anything but supportive when Marlowe, and not he, was made quidditch captain after all.

But then, hadn't that been the only thing Marlowe had ever had over his friend? Sean was a prefect. Head boy, now. He had more O.W.L.'s than Marlowe. He had a whole line of girls waiting to get together with him, none of which he even noticed.

Yes, Marlowe had every right to be jealous. He should be allowed to throw things, to have a tantrum, to shout about how very wrong Sean had been for submitting his name at all when he knew how badly Marlowe had wanted this opportunity. He dropped his nettles into the cauldron with more force than was strictly necessary. A bit of his unfortunately chunky and sickly green potion sloshed out over the edges, smoking when it hit the flames beneath his cauldron. The flame extinguished.

He swore under his breath and knelt down to reignite it with his wand. Unfortunately, Professor Pym chose that moment to arrive at Marlowe's cauldron. "Oh, dear," she said. Marlowe rose slowly back to his seat without lighting the fire again.

Marlowe had always liked Professor Pym. She was typically a forgiving teacher, very patient - head of Hufflepuff House. She refrained from telling anyone they were struggling until it was absolutely necessary, offering saving advice instead. But Marlowe had a feeling his potion could not be saved. He had barely read the instructions and the manner in which he had chopped, juiced, and siphoned his ingredients had been hasty and careless.

"I know," he said with his cheeks burning. He wanted to swallow himself whole and disappear into nothing so that no one could look at him. Everyone stared, hands loosely holding ladles in their own cauldrons or otherwise forgetting to drop the rest of their nettles inside.

He wished she would yell at him, but instead, she lowered herself to be eye level with him in his seat and said, very quietly, "Marlowe, dear, did you begin at the first step?"

He nodded once, jaw set.

"Did you continue on to the second step?" she asked.

He hesitated. His eyes flicked up to the board upon which the instructions were written in bold, clear print. He nodded again.

"And the third?"

Once more he hesitated. "I don't know," he said.

"Marlowe, this potion is not acceptable," she said. Her voice was very even.

He nodded again, not looking at her. He could not speak. His eyes burned, prickling with shame. He stared at the mess inside his cauldron. It had stopped boiling when the flame went out and, somehow, looked even worse sitting still. How he had let some stupid tournament get the better of him like this? So what if Sean was champion? Marlowe had always known he would be. But still, a part of him was angry at his friend.

This is _his _fault, he thought savagely.

"Why don't you clean it out," she said. "And start again."

Marlowe looked up, sharp. "But Professor," he argued. "The lesson is almost over."

"Yes," she said. "It is. But if you don't wish to use your time wisely, I shall have to take more of it. You have no more lessons after this?"

"No," he agreed, heart sinking. He had never known Professor Pym to be so strict, but then, he had never produced something so far off from the intended product and this was N.E.W.T. year.

"Then you have a choice. You can turn this in, and receive a zero, or," she paused, looking pointedly at him. "You can remain here and try again."

"I'll stay," he mumbled, hating himself.

She smiled, stood up, and walked back to her desk at the front of the room.

Ten minutes later, the class was officially over and everyone stood packing their bags to leave, but Marlowe was only just beginning again, his cauldron cleared and fresh ingredients laid out on the table. He began chopping his roots carefully. If he was going to spend another hour or more here, he might as well do a good job of it. He had to admit that Professor Pym, as angry as he was with her, was probably the only professor in the entire school who would give him this sort of a second chance.

A few minutes after the class had left, Professor Pym stood too. "I've got a few things to do in my office," she said. "I trust that you'll do your own honest work and clear up your things?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Marlowe, not meeting her eye.

"If I'm not back when you finish, just leave a bottle on my desk," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated. She picked up a few things from her desk and headed for the door, but stopped and turned to him again.

"And Marlowe? I know this seems harsh, but I'd never have expected this from you, and that's why I'm asking you to do it over. You're better than that."

Marlowe hung his head, feeling even worse than he had before.

She left him to sit there in his misery, wishing that he had not gotten so caught up in feeling sorry for himself that he made it visible to the people around him.

He was just at the point of adding his roots to the cauldron (step three) when the door opened again. It was not Professor Pym, as he had expected, however, but Caiti. She jumped when she saw him, hand flying up to her chest.

"You scared me," she said. "What are you doing here?" He had not seen her yet that day - she often tutored people in potions over her lunch, running into the great hall to grab something for a second and then dashing right back out. Her hair was pulled back in a half ponytail, tied up in the same blue ribbon she had been wearing the last time they had both been in this room.

"I," he said deliberately, hoping not to come across the way he actually felt, "am re-doing my potion. Because I suck."

Caiti laughed and he cracked a smile, relieved that she had taken his tone for his usual good humor and not for whining.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm just.. Checking something," she said evasively.

"Checking what?" he asked, curiously.

"Never mind that," she said. She walked around the edge of classroom and opened the door to the store room. She disappeared behind it for a few minutes and then re-emerged.

"Come on," he said. "Tell me what you're here for." He gave her his best winning smile.

"You're over-boiling your roots," she told him, instead. Marlowe jumped and hurried to read the next instruction.

"Shoot," he said, counting out his spiders and dropping them in one at a time. He stirred three times counter-clockwise, and six times clockwise and the potion settled back to the shade it was supposed to be. "Thanks," he said, settling back down.

Caiti sat by him, but said, "Keep going. This one cooks fast."

Marlowe got to work slicing up the next ingredient. "How is it," he asked, "that you've made all of these potions before that you aren't supposed to do until seventh year, but you're still in the sixth year class?"

She shrugged, swinging her legs under her seat. "I try them on my own," she explained. "But I improve them in class. Learn better technique. You can always use more practice."

"You mean _I _can always use more practice," he said darkly. "You are a natural."

She gave him a complacent smile.

He worked in silence for a minute, all too aware of Caiti's appraising eyes. "Hey," she said. "Do it this way." She pulled the dandelion roots he had just begun to smash towards him. "It's the yellow stuff inside they want," she said. "But juicing it like that mixes in the water in the stem and it doesn't work as well." She sliced very carefully down the length of the stem, opened it up and used the knife to scrape the insides onto her blade. She tapped it on the edge of the cauldron until it fell in. "Try," she said.

Marlowe's job was much more crude than Caiti's had been but he could see the benefits. In his last attempt, he had accidentally dropped bits of fiber from the stem in with the insides and hadn't managed to get out nearly as much of the sticky yellow plant guts.

"Thanks," he said, "Again."

When he reached step eight (Let the potion simmer for ten minutes. DO NOT STIR.), he sat back in his seat, checked the clock, and then looked at Caiti.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

"Of course."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He had been about to tell her how he was feeling about the tournament, but then he remembered that Sean was Caiti's brother. He couldn't complain to her..

"It's a good thing you didn't see my original potion," he said finally.

Caiti was not a Ravenclaw for nothing. He knew immediately that _she _knew this had not been what he planned to say. But she was the kind of friend he liked best - the kind who did not push you to admit to anything you were not ready to admit to. She was a good listener, good at knowing what to do. And often times, with Marlowe, what to do was pretend all was normal, even when you knew it wasn't.

"Oh?" she said. "That bad was it?"

"Worse," he grinned.


	9. The Weighing of the Wands

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Nine. The Weighing of the Wands.

Friday afternoon found Sean in A History of Magic with Marlowe. Neither of them were quite sure why they were still taking the subject. It wasn't as though anyone particularly enjoyed it. Sean supposed his Exceeds Expectations grade on his O.W.L. exam two years ago had been an indicator that he should continue, because he had certainly not expected to receive such a decent grade. He slid Marlowe back his book, inside the cover of which they had been playing hangman. Sean had just guessed the word "champion" in one go. Marlowe read what he'd written, snapped his fingers comically and filled in the letters.

This was a huge improvement on the last word Marlowe had given him (Horklump) which Sean had failed miserably to guess. Only a few minutes earlier, Marlowe had tapped the little hangman drawing with his wand and made him go swinging. He was still swaying back and forth at the top of the page, his little stick person legs kicking uselessly.

Sean began to think of a new word, his quill poised on the page, when Marlowe held up a finger to signal he had thought of another one. Marlowe pulled the book back towards himself and began scratching out short lines for each letter, this one two words long.

Sean considered it and wrote the letter 'A' somewhere above the dashed line.

Marlowe filled in the word appropriately. Professor Binns droned on about the development of werewolf laws and the increasing acceptance of part-human creatures in recent years. The subject might have been interesting, even relevant had they had a different teacher.

_ A _ _ _ _ A _ _ _ _ _ A _ _

Sean frowned at it. He thought another vowel would be a good bet and chanced an 'I.' Marlowe grinned and drew a big round head hanging from the hangman pole. He doodled an impressive mustache and huge frightened eyes on it while Sean thought.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Professor Binns, who was so used to ignoring the sounds of people not listening, did not go to answer it. He did not, in fact, even seem to have heard it. Sean looked towards the window on the door and saw a familiar face peering in, barely tall enough to see inside the door. It was Elliot, Marlowe's little brother. He caught Sean's eye and waved frantically. Then he pointed first at Sean, then back at himself, and finally jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, mouthing something that Sean could not understand.

He looked at Marlowe who had been watching too. "Guess you'd better go," he whispered. Sean looked back at Elliot who repeated the gesture and then, for the first time in seven years, he raised his hand. Professor Binns looked startled. "Did you have a question, Connor?"

"Uh..." said Sean, not sure exactly why he needed to leave. "I have to go..."

"You are in class, I'm afraid," he began, but then Elliot opened the door a crack and poked his head in.

"Excuse me," he said. "I've been sent to take Sean? It's for the tournament?"

Sean looked back at Professor Binns who sighed and said, "Very well," and continued on with his lecture as though there had been no interruption.

Sean packed up his things silently and stood to go, but Marlowe tapped him on the shoulder before he could leave.

He had filled in the rest of their hangman game.

S

Sean smacked himself in the forehead and Marlowe gave him a thumbs up. "Tell me what they're doing," he whispered. Sean nodded and he slipped out of the room after Elliot.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Elliot began chattering loudly. "I was in Professor Munslow's class," he said. "And he let us go early, because he had to go to the Weighing of the Wands. And then he said he had to go and get you and I said _I _could go and get you. And he let me! What's the Weighing of the Wands?"

Sean hitched his bag up his shoulder. "No idea," he said. Elliot, who was about half Sean's height, half-ran to keep up with him. "Where are we going anyway?" Sean asked him.

"Classroom eleven," he said.

"Mm," said Sean. They walked down a flight of stairs and turned left. Down at the end of the corridor was the classroom. Oscar and Eline were already there.

"Good luck!" squeaked Elliot and he scurried off again.

Sean walked in alone. Oscar looked up when he came in. "'Ello Sean," he said. His accent was thick and airy.

"Hi," Sean said.

Eline just nodded.

"Do either of you know what this is?" asked Sean, voice low.

"Madame Maxime said that zey are only wondering eef our wands are working well enough to compete. There is a wandmaker 'ere to test them. And then the newspaper ees here to take pictures."

Sean noticed a woman with dark red hair, in the corner talking with the headmaster. She had a notepad out and was writing down something Professor Osset was saying. Had to be a journalist. Next to her was a photographer in black robes with flyaway hair and a twitchy eyebrow.

Seated at the back of the room in quiet observation was the man Sean had bought his wand from when he was eleven, a man he had been amazed could still be alive back then, and yet, was standing here all these years later: Mr. Ollivander. He was ancient and frail, with pale blue eyes. Sean always had the impression that Mr. Ollivander saw straight to people's souls. He seemed to look at you as though he saw something besides the exterior. It made Sean feel uncomfortable.

"Well, I think we're all here," Professor Osset said, striding over to the champions. "Why don't we get started? Mr. Ollivander is here to check that your wands are all in good order, so I'll turn things over to him."

The wandmaker stepped towards them and in a small voice said, "Ladies first, I think." He approached Eline who held out a short, thick wand made of dark wood.

He took it, ran his fingers down it. "A Dragovic wand, my dear?" he asked.

She nodded. Sean realized he had not yet heard her speak.

"Yes, yes, a fine wandmaker. Adopted my use of only three cores... though the style is certainly different than my own..." he said, examining the wand's girth. "Let's see, six inches, brittle, phoenix feather core... all correct, I'm sure?"

She nodded again.

Ollivander waved the wand and a jet of pink and yellow bubbles shot out the tip of the wand. Eline looked scandalized. Sean supposed nothing so brightly colored had ever come out of her wand before.

"Yes, all well, all well," he said, handing the wand back to Eline. He moved on to Oscar whose wand was made of a pale cedar wood. "Eleven inches," said Ollivander, examining it. "Quite springy. Good wand for charm work, is it?" His eyes flicked up to Oscar.

"Yes, sir," said Oscar pompously, standing a little taller.

"Yes, and a unicorn hair core," continued Ollivander. He swished the wand to one side and flicked it – Oscar's hat floated off his head. Ollivander chuckled as Oscar's gaze snapped up. He let the hat float back down, where it landed lopsided. Oscar hastened to straighten it before retrieving his wand from Mr. Ollivander who repeated, "All well, all well."

He turned to Sean. "Ah!" he said immediately. "One of my own." He reached out for Sean's wand with more interest. "Yes, I remember this one well. A fine wand. Not a bit temperamental. And it works well for you, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. Always," said Sean. He was very fond of his wand.

"Nine and a half inches," said Mr. Ollivander, tracing one long, knobby finger down the wand. "Dragon heartstring. Pliable. Very good for transfiguration." Sean smiled, proud. Transfiguration was his best and favorite subject.

"You have a girlfriend?" he asked Sean, a slight smile on his pale, thin lips.

Sean shook his head, but something in his face must have told Mr. Ollivander that the answer wasn't really so simple as a yes or a no. "Now you do," he said. He waved the wand and said "Orchideus!" and a bouquet of yellow roses flew out of the tip of the wand. He handed them to Sean, along with his wand. "You give these to her," he said.

Sean cracked a bemused smile. "Will do," he said.

"Well," said Professor Osset, clapping his hands together. "Shall we move along? How would you like them arranged?" he asked, looking at the photographer.

Mr. Ollivander stepped back, still eyeing Sean. He wished he wouldn't. The photographer came over, breathing loudly. He conjured a very small, rickety looking chair which he asked Eline to sit in. "And the boys on either side, just behind," he said.

The photos took much longer than Sean had anticipated. They were made to turn their chins every which way until he was satisfied, and then they were asked to do it all again for the individual shots. Sean thought that, when they had finally finished, they would need to do an interview too, but the journalist had been talking with the professors and headmasters all the while and said she had all she needed. Sean had no idea what they might have said about him. He had not been able to listen in while also accurately accomplishing the intricate movements of his head neck and hands that the photographer was asking him to do.

"Thank you all for your time. I'm sure you're eager to have the rest of your afternoons to enjoy yourselves," said Professor Osset. He shook each of their hands on the way out, calling, "We'll see you again in a few weeks!"

Sean realized, heart sinking, that the first task was now only two weeks away.

On Sunday morning, two owls swooped down towards Sean and Evelyn at breakfast. A large tawny owl perched itself on the edge of Evelyn's plate, balancing on one leg with it's great, yellow eyes averted. Evelyn dropped a few coins in the pouch on the owl's leg and untied that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet to which she had a subscription. It had fluttered away before Sean had even managed to get hold of the letter tied to his own brown owl, still a baby and quite giddy. It had been his present when he had become Head Boy.

He had only just managed to remove the letter when Evelyn gasped, the paper unrolled in front of her.

"What?" said Sean, alarmed.

"It's here!" she squeaked. She unfolded the paper to reveal the entire article. A large picture of the three champions covered most of the page under the heading "CHAMPIONS SELECTED FOR TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT."

"Wow, that's a horrible picture of me," said Sean, frowning.

Evelyn smoothed it out so they could read.

_On Saturday, the tenth of October, three champions were selected to compete in the one hundred and fifty seventh Triwizard Tournament, hosted this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Over two dozen students each from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute submitted their names, making this the most populated pool of potential champions in history._

"Wow," whispered Evelyn, drawing her finger under that last line. "I didn't realize..."

_When asked to confront the fiasco which took place the last time the tournament was held just five years ago (in which so much security was put in place to ensure that no one left the grounds of Durmstrang with any knowledge of where they had been that the champions of the opposing schools were too confunded to compete appropriately and the first task had to be redesigned and done over), Anna Pavlov, headmistress of Durmstrang Institute, refused to comment._

_Gerald Osset, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, assured the Prophet that no such scenario would take place whilst Hogwarts plays host to the competition. "Between the careful planning of the Departments of Magical Games and Sports and of International Magical Cooperation, we are confident everything will run smoothly," said Osset this Friday at the Weighing of the Wands ceremony._

_Representing Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is Oscar Durand of Mulhouse, France, aged seventeen. Durand, says headmistress Olympe Maxime, is an able student with an ability for charm work that surpasses that of many students she has watched walk through the halls of her school in her impressive tenure as headmistress. "He has been a leader for his younger peers and a (continues on p.6)._

Evelyn quickly turned pages, looking for the rest of the article. The individual shots of the champions were on this page, including a small headshot of Sean, smiling in an embarrassed kind of way with shifty eyes, wondering when the photoshoot would be over. Sean decided he did not like seeing himself in print this way. He was nervous to read what they had written about him. "Sean O'Connell is a complete dunce," perhaps. "We just don't know he ended up champion. Hogwarts has no chance of winning this year's tournament."

Evelyn flattened out page six and they continued to read.

_(Triwizard: continued from p.1) model student."_

_"Representing Durmstrang Institute is Eline Halvorson of Krakow, Poland, aged eighteen. Miss Halvorson's headmistress assures us her pupil is extremely well-versed in defensive magic. "Eline will win," she told the Prophet decisively. "She is winning everything she enters." Halvorson certainly appeared to have a determined look on her face when we met her on Friday. We shall soon see if Pavlov's prediction is true._

_Finally, representing our own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is seventh year and seventeen year old Sean O'Connell of Edenderry, Ireland. We spoke to Professor Westwick - Head of Ravenclaw house of which O'Connell is a member - regarding his pupil. "Sean is the kind of kid you want in a competition like this," he told the prophet fondly. "Good kid. Kind to everyone, hard worker, and a very able wizard." O'Connell is among the top of his class at Hogwarts, plays keeper for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team (which has twice won the Interhouse Quidditch cup with his help), and serves as Head Boy of the student body. We at the prophet support our Hogwarts champion and hope to see him snatch another Hogwarts victory._

_The historic tournament will officially begin on November the Third at seven o'clock for the first task. Viewing is limited to Hogwarts students and foreign guests, but limited seating is available for the third task in May, tickets for which can be obtained by contacting the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic._

Sean's face was bright red when he finished reading.

"Gave you rave reviews, didn't they?" said Evelyn, smirking. Sean hoped no one else read the article. It had come off so boastful. He was happy, now, that he had not been interviewed, and could only hope everyone else read the article that way as well.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess so." He looked away from the paper, not quite sure he was happy with his depiction. They'd made him seem perfect. It felt artificial.

He tried to interest himself in some sausages while Evelyn continued to peruse the paper, looking for anything else of interest. He lost sight of her behind the paper for a few minutes, and she occasionally murmured things to herself. He thought he heard "oh no" and "can't be true..." once or twice.

Suddenly she emerged again, accidentally dipping a corner of the paper into a bowl of jam.

"Look at this," she said. Her eyes were wide and her face had gone pale. She pointed at a very small article on the same page as the second half of the Triwizard Tournament announcement.

Sean began to read again.

MUGGLE ATTACK RECALLS DEATH EATERS

_Last weekend, Ministry Officials were summoned to deal with an act of Muggle Baiting the likes of which we have not witnessed since the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In a brief interview at the scene, Senior Auror Elise Walsh explained that six or seven masked wizards who aurors have yet to identify had been caught leading a bus full of muggle children towards a particularly dangerous quarry in the South of Scotland. The driver of the bus had been killed, no doubt by an unforgivable curse._

_The wizards disapparated as soon as ministry officials appeared on the scene, making it impossible to discover who was involved, but luckily, before any children were harmed. "The ministry has had a job modifying the memories of everyone involved. There were plenty of witnesses besides the thirty or so kids. Seemed they'd all been imperiused or I doubt they would have followed," said Walsh. "We're glad we had news of the incident so early on, preventing anything worse from happening, but the fact is, those wizards are still at large, and our department won't be able to rest until we've identified and caught all of them."_

_We urge the wizarding community to report any unusual behavior they witness or hear about. This will likely not be an isolated incident. We believe the masks worn were similar to those worn by He Who Must Not Be Named's Death Eaters in the past and can only hope that this fact is coincidence and not a conscious choice._

Sean shook his head slowly, at a loss for words. "That," he said finally, "should have been front page news." He had grown up after You Know Who had gone, of course, but his parents had been in school during the last uprising, and he felt the same prickle of fear that they did every time something to do with him came up.

"I know," said Evelyn. "I guess they didn't think they could share with the Tournament and everything, but I don't know... it's such a small article and it's sort of hidden. Easy to look past. Seems kind of reckless on the Prophet's part, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do think," said Sean, handing back the paper. He felt shaken. He wondered if his parents had seen it. "Maybe they don't want people to worry."

"Or maybe," said Evelyn slowly, "They don't want to draw attention to it and give them any more power."

"I don't know that that's the best method. Certainly not the one I'd take. But you might be right."

They fell silent, each dreading to think what would happen if these wizards were not caught soon.

"Didn't you get a letter?" Evelyn asked out of the blue.

"What? Oh-" Sean picked up the envelope he had left sitting on the table, unopened. "Oh, yeah."

He slit the envelope open and slid out a piece of parchment, folded into fourths. He recognized his mother's neat print.

_Sean,_

_I can't believe you entered that tournament and I can't believe that it was Caiti who told me you'd been chosen, and not you. I wish I could say I'm furious with you for even considering entering and for leaving me in the dark, but as you're champion now, I suppose I can't pretend any longer that I'm not more proud of you than ever. Your name couldn't have come out of the Goblet of Fire if you weren't the amazing young man I've always known you are - and now the world will know too!_

_Please, promise me you'll be careful, Sean. This tournament is so dangerous. I know you'll be able to do it, but I can't help but worry, and I know Caiti's worried too. You know how she is. She cares so much about you and about everyone. If something happened to you, she'll experience it twice as hard._

_Your father is beside himself. He can't stop telling everyone he meets. He's been boasting to his colleagues all week and I've had so many people come to call asking about you and they're all agog. Course I expect you'll explain everything to me. I want details on every bit of it. Got to be able to answer questions when people come around, you know._

_My son, a Triwizard Champion!_

_I love you so much, Sean. And I'm so proud. Please, be careful and win if you can! We're all rooting for you at home. You'll have the whole of Ireland on your side in a heartbeat at the rate your father's going._

_Please write soon - I don't want to keep finding out huge news from your sister that ought to have come from you!_

_Love,_

_Mum_

Sean's face felt hot and his eyes burned a little. He blinked hard, folding up the letter again, and took a sip of his pumpkin juice to hide his face.

"Who's it from?" asked Evelyn.

"My mum," said Sean. "Just saying congratulations and all." He had known it would be from her the second he had noticed his owl coming, but he had not anticipated he would be so affected. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he had always been a Momma's Boy. Sometimes he thought it was the reason he liked Evelyn so much; she was very maternal.

"Sweet," said Evelyn, a small smile on her lips.

They left the great hall a few minutes later, all thoughts of muggle baiting and masked wizards out of his mind.


	10. Muggle Borns and Muggle Studies

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Ten. Muggle Borns and Muggle Studies.

All through lunch on Wednesday, Evelyn was quiet, picking at her food. She kept glancing up at the staff table where Professor Mason, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's seat was empty, as it had been at every meal that week.

She knew Sean and Marlowe had noticed her odd behavior because they were looking at each other across the table, side eyeing her. Neither of them said anything. She almost wanted them to. She wanted them to ask what she was thinking.

Finally, just as they began to pack up, she broke the silence herself.

"I was thinking," she said.

"We noticed," said Marlowe. She glared at him.

"I was thinking," she repeated, pulling her long hair out from under the strap of her bag where it had gotten stuck. "That we ought to ask Professor Mason about the article."

They had updated Caiti and Marlowe on Sunday evening in the common room. Or rather, she had. Sean, it seemed, had forgotten all about it. But Evelyn was muggle born. The knowledge of the attack on the muggle school children and it's lack of resolution had been sitting uneasily in her stomach all week, always at the front of her mind.

"Why him?" asked Sean, frowning.

Evelyn had thought this was obvious. "Well he used to be an auror didn't he?" Indeed, Professor Mason had been hired by the auror's department a few years after he'd finished school. He had only remained there for three years before he had quit and taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts. He never discussed the reason why he left although he would occasionally speak about his experience which had been, mainly, rounding up the remains of the death-eaters after You-Know-Who had gone for good. Evelyn had always assumed that it was lack of work that brought him to the school. Certainly there were fewer dark wizards than there had been when he had finished school. But she did not know whether her theory was true.

The conversation was cut short as they made their way up the aisles between tables and to the front door, because Marlowe was walking along the outer edge and she didn't think the subject was appropriate to be shouted across the heads of the other Ravenclaws who were finishing their lunch.

"As I say," she continued the moment they all passed into the entrance hall, as if this break had not occurred. "He was an auror. He might still be in contact with the other aurors, maybe that Elise whatever her name was from the paper, even. I'd just like to hear what someone thinks. And besides, haven't you noticed he's been gone?"

"He's not really been gone," said Marlowe, hoisting his bag up his shoulder. "Elliot had him on Monday. And Caiti had him yesterday. Neither of them said he missed his class."

"No," said Evelyn, frustrated. "But he hasn't been at a single meal - not even dinner - all week."

"What do you think you'll find out by asking?" asked Sean. He recoiled under the look she gave him.

"Well if neither of you care to know, then I'll do it myself," she said. She sped up to walk ahead of them, but Sean hurried to catch back up with her.

"Ev, I didn't mean I wasn't interested, it's just-"

But she cut him off. "Just that it's not really a concern, right? Just that it's one incident that happened far away and didn't involve us." She didn't know why she was so angry with him. Only that she had been on edge ever since she had read the article and it was getting more difficult to act her normal self. It felt good to have someone to lash out at, even if she knew, beneath her unfair anger, that Sean did not deserve it.

"That's not what I said," he said quietly.

They had arrived outside the door of the classroom. Evelyn stopped, turning to glare at him. Marlowe, who had evidently not sped up, was still down at the other end of the hall, not appearing in any rush to catch up with his friends.

"You don't get it, though," she said. "You've got other things on your mind. You think this stupid tournament is the only important thing there is now and meanwhile muggles are _dying _at the hands of wizards who think it's funny and-"

"Evelyn," he said, looking hurt. "I don't think that. I don't-" But she wrenched open the door of the classroom and took a seat in the front at a table that was already nearly full.

Sean stood outside looking stunned until Marlowe had caught up to him. They seated themselves a few rows behind her, near enough that she could hear them muttering to each other, about her she assumed, though she couldn't make out what they were saying.

Professor Mason arrived just on time. He was a tall and well-built wizard, black robes crisp and formidable. He had dark hair that probably would have been curly if it were not cut so short and neat, and his jawline was strong. Evelyn knew that the girls in Caiti's class thought he was attractive and liked to jokingly flirt with him, but she had always found him a little intimidating. She had suspected, however, ever since she had gone into the hospital wing for a pepperup potion at the start of term and walked in on him in conversation with Raigan, the nurse, that he had a soft side he did not often show to his students.

He immediately launched into an explanation of what that day's lesson would be, but Evelyn's hand shot up in the air. He paused, looking surprised. Professor Mason typically had the sort command of the classroom that dictated that no questions would be asked until he had given permission to ask them.

"Yes, Miss O'Sullivan?" he asked.

"I was wondering," said Evelyn, sitting up straighter. She kept her voice cool, collected. "If you would be able to talk a bit about what was in the news this weekend."

Professor Mason's face was impassive, but Evelyn was sure he knew exactly what she was talking about. "About the tournament," he said, with feigned confusion.

"About a group of masked wizards who attacked a bus full of muggle school children," said Evelyn, her voice hard. She gripped the edge of her chair tight, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking. Every time she thought about it became more real to her what had been done, what might be only the start of a much larger problem if it were not quelled soon.

He looked reluctant, but a few others in the room had sat up a little straighter, looking between Evelyn and Professor Mason. He sighed. "Alright."

He watched her, perhaps thinking she had a specific question, but she merely stared back at him, waiting to hear what he had to say on his own first.

"If you haven't read the prophet," he explained, sitting on the edge of his desk, "you might not have heard that a group of wizards were spotted in a muggle village in the south of England this past weekend. They had overtaken a school bus, murdered the driver, and were leading the children through the streets and towards a dangerous quarry at which point a team of aurors arrived on the scene and they disapparated, abandoning their plan. From what we have gathered, the muggle man they killed had never had any sort of contact with wizards nor had he done anything to give any of the men in question reason to hold a grudge, unless of course, their grudge was simply that he was a muggle. The culprits have not yet been caught or identified, although we have leads on several, yet to be proven of course."

People had begun to murmur all around the classroom and Professor Mason raised his voice as he continued. "The reason that this attack has garnered so much fear, is that the wizards had their faces covered, wearing the same sort of mask as a group of very dark wizards I'm sure you're parents or other professors have told you about: the death eaters. Now we know there is no possibility that their leader has returned, but we fear that, as long as there is still anti-muggle sympathy as well as a desire to purify bloodlines and to decide who is allowed to study and perform magic, there is danger of uprisings like these growing and gaining support.

"This is why the ministry has been working so tirelessly since the end of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reign to increase the acceptance of muggle born witches and wizards as well as muggles themselves, and has passed many laws on account of this wish for more unity between the magic and muggle worlds. And things are much better, but prejudice is deepset _and," _he paused here for effect and when he continued his words were sharp and punctuated. "It is taught. It is too soon to expect that the problem has been solved, but some of the higher-ups were lax. It seemed things had been fixed. It's allowed something like this to happen."

He stopped talking suddenly, perhaps wondering if he had said too much. Everyone was listening to him with rapt attention. Evelyn saw someone raise a tentative hand at the other side of the room. It was Peter Silverstein, a Hufflepuff with a rather wavering voice.

"Sir," he said timidly when Professor Mason had called on him. "You used the word 'we' a lot... I wondered if... if you were still working with the ministry. If you were still, sometimes, an auror."

Evelyn was glad someone else had asked the question. She had been wondering the same thing.

"I am not," he said quietly. "But many of my former colleagues remain there and there are several with whom I still correspond regularly. Forgive me for grouping myself with them. My only place of authority is here, although I admit, I do voice my opinion occasionally when I think they are mistaken. For example, in that article, it was suggested that all those children had been put under the imperius curse and that is why they followed. I think not. Children, I have learned, respond to fear quite the same way they respond to pleasure, that is, with docility. I think it would have been easy enough to frighten them into following, whether or not they trusted the people in masks. They had just witnessed a murder, after all, and who would blame them for thinking they might go the same way if they did not do as they were told."

This time it was Evelyn who raised her hand. She was much less interested in his theory on the alleged use of the imperius curse than she was in his remaining presence at the ministry.

"Miss O'Sullivan?" he said. She could tell he was losing patience with the subject, anxious to get back on with his lesson and away from a topic that was not necessarily school appropriate, although this being his seventh years, these were all of-age students.

"I only wondered," she said, "If you had spoken with the auror they interviewed in that article. Or if you had known her."

Something very odd happened in Professor Mason's face. She could not tell if it was a look of rage or deepest sadness, but it only flashed across his face and was gone again. "I knew her, yes," he said shortly. "We have not spoken about the incident."

Although at least six more hands had gone up around the room, he ignored them and announced that they really needed to get on with the class. The hands all around her slid down in disappointment and Evelyn sank back into her chair, left with more questions than answers.

Caiti and Marlowe sat in the library that day after lessons had ended. They had planned to meet there and work on homework as each of them had a certain amount of research to do before they could complete the essays they had been set. Caiti was working on a project for muggle studies. They were spending the term studying muggle entertainment, art, and culture. She was deeply enthralled with all of it, and her recent discovery of films and movie theatres had her poking Marlowe every few seconds to whisper something else she had just learned.

Marlowe, whose mother was a muggle and who had grown up perfectly accustomed to both the muggle and magical words, feigned interest and surprise. Each time, he turned back to his own homework - a much less interesting essay on the establishment of the International Confederation of Wizards for a History of Magic - with an amused smile.

Finally, she seemed to be so engrossed in her essay that she had forgotten to let him know when she found some new and interesting tidbit. For about a half an hour, he worked diligently on his own work before he reached the conclusion of the essay. Caiti was not yet finished and he did not want to distract her so her pretended to be looking something up in one of the library books he had pulled from the shelves before they had sat down. He glanced up at her.

She was concentrating hard, lips just slightly parted. Her blonde hair was all the way down today, which was unusual. She had swung it all to one side where it hung over her shoulder, and it shielded part of her face. Shallow frown lines appeared on her forehead as she moved her parchment up a few inches and continued writing. She paused a minute later, thinking, and seemed to realize at the same time that Marlowe did, that he had been staring at her. She looked up and Marlowe, looking into her warm brown eyes framed by long, thick eyelashes, suddenly felt very nervous.

"What?" she whispered.

"Oh. Nothing," he said.

"You were staring at me," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. Her cheeks looked tense like she was trying to hold the smile back.

"Zoned out," he said, looking away. He hoped his cheeks did not look as red as he felt. He closed the book in front of him and stacked it with two others. "Anything you want me to put back?" he asked. "I'm finished." He did not look directly at her again.

She considered her books and slid him a few. She left her hand on one, putting the pointer finger of her other hand to her lips in thought. "Might keep this one," she said. Then she added, "Thanks. I'm almost done too... just the conclusion."

He added her books to the pile and went to put them away, hoping that by the time he came back, his cheeks would have returned to a normal and much more comfortable temperature. He had actually begun to sweat. How long had he been staring at her?

Marlowe found the shelf where his books had come from and drew his finger down the line, looking for the codes that came before his in the system to replace them before tapping each with his wand and sending it back up to it's place.

Caiti, he thought to himself, the words rising to the front of his mind uninvited, was getting prettier every day. She had always been cute in a girl-next-door, best friend's sister sort of a way, short and blonde and clear-skinned with expressive eyes. But somewhere, sometime, over the summer he supposed, she had become beautiful.

Or maybe she had always been and it was he who had changed, he who had suddenly really noticed it.

He returned to their table when everything had been returned to its place and found Caiti packing up her things into the black shoulder bag she carried. He rolled up his scroll and stuck it inside his own disorganized bag.

"Ready?" she asked. He nodded, and they crept out of the library, dodging the squeaky floorboard in front of the door that always made the entire library, first and foremost Madame Page, the librarian, turn to see who had caused the ruckus.

Caiti hopped around and danced down the hallway, apparently in a very good mood. "I want to see a movie, Marlowe," she said.

"So weird you've never been," he told her with a bemused smile.

"Wait, you _have?" _she asked, her mouth opening into a comical 'o.'

"Plenty of times. With my mom, you know?"

_"Wow," _said Caiti. "Can I go with you sometime? On holiday or something?"

He laughed through a closed mouth. "Yeah, of course."

She smiled at the thought. "My book said that movies are the traditional muggle date," she said.

Marlowe was startled by this, not because the information was anything he did not already know, but because it had almost sounded as though she were making a suggestion, giving him a cue.

But she couldn't have been. He said nothing.

They had almost made it back to the common room when Caiti said, "Hogsmeade this weekend. What are we gonna do?"

"Can't," said Marlowe. "Quidditch practice."

"Reschedule it," said Caiti.

"I can't," he said.

"But you will," she said. She looked at him with the sort of sad puppy dog face that girls always gave when they wanted something.

He turned away from her. He could not give in. He needed the extra practice time. They were playing Slytherin next and the weather was getting worse as November neared. There would be less play time in the next few weeks, not to mention the rapidly approaching first task that meant Sean, who wanted the time to prepare, would not be in practice all the next week.

"Marlowe," whined Caiti. "Saturday is my _birthday."_

Understanding dawned on his face. He swore under his breath.

Caiti stopped walking and stared at him. "Did you forget? You jerk!"

He kept walking a few steps past her, slowing to a stop. He turned back to her. "No," he said quickly. "No. October twenty seventh. I just didn't realize that was Saturday." He chewed his lip. "I guess I could try and move the practice to Sunday..."

"Yes you could," she said smugly. "Because I'm going to spend my birthday with my best friend, not third wheeling my brother."

Marlowe laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll let everyone know," he said. Caiti nodded, appeased, and caught up to him. He looped his arm around her. "Can't believe little Caiti's gonna be seventeen."

"Shut up," she said. "I'm not little."

"I beg to differ," he said, looking down at her. He was, after all, an entire foot taller than she was.

"I mean" she said, scoffing at him, "that I'm not a little kid."

"Nah, I know," he grinned. "Only joking. Still crazy though. We're all getting old, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Caiti agreed. "I'd better stop helping you in potions so you'll fail and have to retake seventh year with me."

"God, no, please don't. I can't take N.E.W.T.s twice," he said, shuddering.

Caiti tipped her head from side to side. "I suppose that would be pretty cruel of me."

They entered the common room a minute later and found Evelyn and Sean sitting on opposite sides of the room. Evelyn was looking resolutely away from Sean, her back turned to him, but Sean, he saw, was staring at her back in apparent distress.

"What's up with them?" asked Caiti quietly.

Marlowe realized that he had not updated Caiti on the events of their DADA lesson and Evelyn's argument with Sean.

"Long story. I'll tell you later." And he marched towards Sean who looked up as his friend approached.

"Help," he said in desperation. The look on his face plainly said that no part of him was able to interpret this particular instance of female moodiness.

"What's up now?" asked Marlowe, sitting himself down in an open chair next to Sean's.

"She's still mad at me," said Sean. "Even though I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything, did I?" he added, a look of terror in his eyes that Marlowe thought might rival Sean's face when he found himself in front of whatever it was that the tasks would ask him to address.

"No, you didn't," he said. "She's just upset and you were the closest person for her to take it out on."

Sean relaxed, but then he looked across the room at Evelyn again and his hands gripped into anxious fists. "I don't know what to do. She won't talk to me."

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" asked Caiti.

Sean's eyes widened. "Yeah, Caiti, you're a girl. You'll understand." He recounted the story of their walk to class that afternoon.

Caiti listened carefully and considered it all for a while before she spoke. "I think," she said, "you just need to go and apologize." Sean showed signs of protesting but Caiti spoke over him. "Apologize," she repeated, "for what she _thinks_ you've done. And then, because I think she just wants to talk about it, and to feel like other people want to talk about it too, you can ask her a question. She just wants someone to listen. And to be on her side."

"Caiti, you're a smart girl," said Marlowe.

Sean nodded thoughtfully, then he stood up looking determined. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I think I will."

Marlowe watched him walk away and, next to him, Caiti said, "I really hope that was good advice. I don't want to be the thing that stands in between the future married couple."

"Sounded good to me," said Marlowe with a shrug.

"Go find your teammates," said Caiti. With a guilty look, Marlowe stood up, and headed over to where Elodie was sitting with her friends near the tower window.

"Ev?" said Sean. He made to put his hand on her shoulder, but saw the look on her face and stopped halfway there. She was glaring at her lap as though it had done her a serious and unforgivable wrong.

"Ev, I'm really, really sorry if I made it seem like I didn't care... like it didn't matter..." He sat down opposite her, leaning forward across the small, circular table, and tried to catch her eye. His hands were clasped in front of him. "I didn't mean to come off that way," he said carefully. She did not look at him or say anything, but she sat up straighter, eyes downcast. "Ev," he said again.

"Don't you 'Ev' me," she said quietly.

Sean was so relieved she had spoken to him that he actually smiled. "Okay. Evelyn O'Sullivan, please accept my fullest and deepest apology. I care very much about this and I had a moment of selfishness which I regret."

Finally, Evelyn looked at him. Her eyes were hard at first, but they softened after only a second and she looked away again. "No you didn't," she said. "You didn't do anything."

Sean blinked.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I'm the one who should be." Her eyes flickered up to the ceiling and, bottom lip hidden under the top, she breathed in deeply through her nose. He thought her eyes looked a little glassy.

Sean scooted his chair around the edge of the table until he was right next to her. "Maybe we both have something to be sorry for. But don't worry about that. I know it's on your mind still, so let's talk about it."

"It just scares me," she said. "My family."

Sean had not thought of it this way. He tended to think that all muggles were strangers. And Evelyn's parents, Marlowe's mother... they were not really muggles. They were related, after all, to wizards and witches.

"Nothing's going to happen to your family, Ev," said Sean.

"You don't know that," she said. "You have no idea what could happen."

"No," he said. "But I also believe that the ministry has got it under control. It'll all get taken care of."

"It's not that easy, Sean. The idea's out there now. Even if they catch the ones who did it, someone else is going to see that and think, wow, what a great idea. What a message. I could do that too. And then it spreads. You can't just control it by catching them. And if you haven't noticed, it's been four days since the article, longer since it happened, and not one of them has been caught."

"Professor Mason said they had leads though, didn't he?"

"Leads aren't the same as captures," she said stubbornly.

"No," he agreed. "But they're better than nothing."

Evelyn tipped sideways, landing heavily against his shoulder. "How are you always so positive?"

"Dunno," he said. "Let's just... not worry about it until there's more news, okay?"

Evelyn nodded, though he doubted she would actually follow his advice.

"But," he said, and he pulled her into a hug resting his chin on the top of her head. "If you ever want to talk about it... I will."

"I know," she said.


	11. Hogsmeade

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Eleven. Hogsmeade.

Caiti allowed herself the liberty of sleeping in so late on her birthday that she missed breakfast. She finally made it downstairs at eleven AM, dressed in her favorite tiffany blue sweater and white jeans, plus the blue bow she usually wore tied around her half ponytail. The tails of the ribbon were droopy, nestled into soft, loopy curls. She had made an effort that morning with her makeup, even. Just because.

Marlowe was waiting for her in the common room. He had a book open in front of him which she suspected was only for show. He did not look when she approached him but she could tell he knew she was there.

"There's the birthday girl," he said, grinning when she tapped him on the shoulder. "Brought you some breakfast." He picked up a stack of toast wrapped in napkins.

"Thank you," she said brightly, and she sat herself on the floor, leaning against his legs, and unwrapped the toast.

"Slept late, huh?" he asked.

Caiti looked at him upside down. "Mmhmm."

"Guess you're allowed to today," he said, reaching down to give her shoulder a squeeze.

Caiti nodded, munching on her half cold toast.

"Sean and Evelyn aren't going," he said. "Something about Sean wanting to prepare for the task. As though he knows what he's even supposed to do. But anyway, Evelyn said she'd stay and help him and they'll meet us for dinner tonight."

Caiti shrugged. "That's alright. We'll have more fun anyway. They're too sensible."

Marlowe laughed. "Can't disagree."

They arrived in Hogsmeade near one o'clock and Caiti was starving again. She found them a table in the Three Broomsticks while Marlowe went to order two butterbeers and a couple of appetizers to share, including smashed potatoes and a bowl of Caiti's favorite brown bread. He insisted that the birthday girl not pay.

Marlowe found her at a small booth in the back corner where she was sitting cross legged on the bench, slouching over with her chin in her hands.

He slid one frothy butterbeer over to her. "Thanks," she said, sitting up again.

"Don't worry about it," he said, taking a sip of his own. He wiped a bit of foam off his upper lip with the back of his hand. "So, how's it feel to be seventeen?" he asked.

"I feel elderly," said Caiti without a moment's thought.

Marlowe, who had just taken a second sip of his butterbeer, nearly spit it out everywhere.

"Elderly," he repeated once he had finished coughing. His voice was still a little wheezy and his eyes were watering.

"Yes," she said. Her hands were clasped around the warm mug from which she had yet to drink. "I feel elderly."

"Well," he said, grinning, "you don't look it."

Caiti took a sip of her butterbeer to hide her smile.

"And anyway, you can do magic wherever you go now. And as soon as you've taken apparition lessons you'll be able to take your test."

"Definitely a plus," she said. "Because brooms are not my thing."

"And that is something I will never understand," said Marlowe.

Madame Rosmerta, the curvaceous, but now aging barmaid, her long frizzy hair graying in places, set two dishes on the table. Caiti immediately set to buttering a piece of the brown bread she was so fond of and did not see a second person approaching the table. She set down her knife just in time to hear an all too familiar voice say "Hey."

Theo.

Caiti froze, just her eyes flicking upwards.

"Can I sit down for a second?" he asked. He looked nervous. "Just for... I mean I don't want to interrupt." He looked at Marlowe. "It won't be long."

Caiti scooted over so he could sit next to her.

"I just wanted to give you something," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out single chocolate frog. It was not gift-wrapped and no card accompanied it, but still, Caiti was touched. She took it in silence, eyes on him.

"So um..." He shifted in his seat. "Happy Birthday."

Theo began to rise, but Caiti said, "Wait."

He stopped, looking at her again. "Thank you," she said. "You didn't need to."

Theo shrugged. He looked relieved. She looked down at the chocolate frog box in her hand. "Knew you liked them," he said quietly. She nodded, still staring at the sweet like it was a complicated rune that she was contemplating very hard. She neither frowned nor smiled.

Theo looked as though he wasn't sure if he should go. Caiti put the frog down gently, turned to Theo, concentrated on him for a beat, and then hugged him tight. "You're a good friend," she whispered. For some reason, she did not want Marlowe to hear.

She pulled back before Theo did and he gave her an awkward smile. This time when he got up to leave, she did not stop him. Caiti picked the frog back up and resumed staring at it with a mixture of pity, exhaustion, and compassion on her face, something like she might have looked if it were a sick baby in her hands and not a sweet.

"That was nice of him," said Marlowe, when the silence between them had started to feel uncomfortable.

Caiti nodded but did not say anything. She tilted her head to one side.

"How do you-" he began. "How do you feel about that?"

Caiti waited a long time before she answered. Finally, she set the box back down on the table, and said, "Confused."

Marlowe picked up the piece of bread he had abandoned when Theo had arrived, ripping a piece off with his eyes on Caiti. He frowned ever so slightly.

"I mean... does this mean I'm supposed to get him a Christmas present?"

Marlowe nearly laughed, but Caiti's expression was so serious that he exercised all his willpower to hold it in.

"No really," she continued. Finally, she looked at him. A flash of panic passed through her eyes. "Because I didn't even know what to get him when we were together."

This time Marlowe did laugh. He covered his mouth, because he had been in the middle of chewing.

"Hey!" said Caiti, indignantly. "That's not helpful."

"Just... get him sweets too._ If _you want to get him something. It's a safe bet."

"You know, he's a good guy," Caiti said suddenly.

Marlowe was taken aback. He could not disagree though, however much he wanted to. He had gotten to know Theo due to quidditch, and had no qualms with him except that he had somehow managed to get Caiti to kiss him, a feat Marlowe had failed to accomplish for years.

"You don't... you don't think I made a mistake, did I?"

"No," said Marlowe, too quickly. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he said again, "No. You did what you needed to."

Caiti gave him a funny look, but did not press the matter.

Once they were sufficiently full, Caiti and Marlowe stepped out of the Three Broomsticks and into the chilly October afternoon. They huddled together against a gust of wind and then, heads bowed and hands in their pockets, headed for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The Hogsmeade branch had grown so successful it had completely bought out Zonko's.

It was easily the most colorful shop on the street, painted purple outside with a red front door and windows lined with every sort of eye catching thing imaginable: fanged frisbees flying above the display, two cages of Pygmy Puffs in every color, and a variety of oddly shaped boxes with bright, moving illustrations of the products inside.

They had only just entered when the door opened again and a group of girls succeeded them inside the already densely packed shop. The last to enter was Amelia, her auburn hair styled in loose waves and her lips painted a shocking pink.

"Shoot," said Marlowe. He tried to hide behind Caiti - a hopeless case for she was frankly miniature compared to him - but did not need to, because Amelia looked at him and walked right past.

Marlowe stood up straight again, gaping after her.

"Oh," Caiti giggled. "I forgot to tell you. Amelia's moved on."

"She has?" said Marlowe. "I mean... I can't say I mind, but I didn't see that coming. You know how many times I ignored that wedding invitation?"

"Well, you see there's this other guy, who's like... champion of the school or something? I don't really know him well or anything." She grinned.

Marlowe's face erupted into the most mischievous smile Caiti had ever seen. His eyes glinted. "Are you or are you not talking about Sean O'Connell?"

"I might be," said Caiti, with a poor attempt at being sly.

"Oh, I will never let him hear the end of this," said Marlowe. "And you know what, maybe it'll rush him into getting together with Evelyn."

"Don't rush it too much," warned Caiti. "She'll come crawling back to you if she thinks Sean's out of bounds."

They proceeded deeper into the store, Caiti trailing her fingers along all the colorful boxes and reading the titles on them. She stopped to examine the boxes of love potions, not particularly interested in using them, but wondering instead, what sort of a recipe was used, if it was, indeed, amortentia as advertised or a simplified, easier to produce version.

Caiti had never been in the presence of amortentia before, but she knew about it and she had always wondered what she would smell. It would almost be worth buying one of these just to find out. She set the box back down. Marlowe would never let her hear the end of it if she bought it. But then she saw something else that caught her eye, a much smaller box but in the same sort of pink, polka dotted packaging with mint green scallops over the plastic front. The box read "Love-Gloss" and then in smaller print underneath, "Amortentia Infused Lip Balm!" Intrigued, Caiti flipped the box over. She had never seen anything like this and wondered how putting the potion into a balm form had affected its properties. She assumed it had to dull the effects some, or at least decrease the length of time in which it was effective. Potions were meant to be drunk.

On the back was a short description and a few warnings.

"Instructions for Use: Just slide Love-Gloss over your lips for some snog-ready double duty benefits - irresistibly smooth lips and no chance of rejection! When you use Love-Gloss, he won't be able to help himself kissing you back.

"Warnings: Amortentia used in love-gloss is only a temporary solution for attraction. It does not reap the same benefits as ingestion. The wearer may find side effects of giddiness, excessive daydreaming, and unfocused eyes to be prevalent while in use. These can be stopped easily by washing Love-Gloss off with soap and water."

Caiti put the box back down, smirking. Seemed like a stupid idea, really. You might get them to kiss you that once, but there would be no lasting effect. Not that Amortentia was really a long-term solution either, unless you continued to slip it into their food.

Caiti looked around her. Somewhere along the lines, she and Marlowe had been separated. It was not hard to lose someone in this store. The merchandise was so densely packed in and the aisles so small and crowded that you could be split apart without even knowing it. She began to rotate on the spot, rising on tiptoe to see over the tops of the shorter shelves in search of him. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned to see a shabby looking brown hat floating in midair over the sweater Marlowe had been wearing . His head had vanished.

Caiti's eyes momentarily widened with shock and she started, but he reached up and whipped off the hat, twirling it downward with bravado. "Gotcha," he said, and she grinned.

"Give me that," she said, snagging the hat out of his hand. She dropped it onto her own head, giggling when she was no longer able to see her own nose when she looked down.

"There are more upscale ones that make the hat disappear too," said Marlowe. "But I think these ones are funny."

He replaced the hat back on the shelf and they continued to weave through the store, sticking closer together now.

Caiti drifted over to a cage of pygmy puffs, just like the ones in the shop window, and stuck her finger through the bars to pet the nearest puffball, a little blue one. "I always liked these," she said. "I think they're sweet."

"I'll buy you one," said Marlowe.

"No you will not," she said sharply, snapping her gaze to him. He was standing just over her shoulder peering into the cage.

"Yeah I will," he said easily. "Birthday present. I haven't found anything good enough."

"No, I'll feel bad," she argued.

"If there's one day of the year you should not feel bad for letting your best friend buy you something you want, it's your birthday. Pick one out."

Caiti turned back to the cage. The blue one she had been petting nuzzled up to her finger. She cracked a smile. "They _are _sweet, aren't they?" She glanced up at Marlowe again but he just tapped the gold watch on his wrist which he had received for his own seventeenth birthday.

"Fine," she said dully, but her face was bright.

When they left the shop, it was was with a bag full of products each and the new blue Pygmy Puff, which Caiti had not yet come up with a sufficiently good name for, perched in her hands. Caiti could not stop looking at it sitting there on her palm where it hopped up and down and cooed and rolled over, burrowing itself between her fingers.

"Thanks, Marlowe," said Caiti for the millionth time, beaming.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

Caiti eyed him sideways, lips twisted to one side. "Hold him a minute," she said. Marlowe held out his hand and took the little puffball. While he was looking at it, Caiti surprised him by putting her hands on his shoulders, standing on her highest tiptoe, and kissing him on the cheek. She nearly had to jump to reach. Marlowe looked stunned first, and then quite pleased.

"Oh, don't squish him," said Caiti, taking back her new friend, for Marlowe's hand had begun to close around it in his surprise.

Marlowe handed him back wordlessly, and began walking again with a new pep in his step.

Back in the castle, Sean felt as though he were making a very, very slow procession towards his certain death. Every time he thought about the task, one week away exactly now - he was staring at the library's clock which had just struck seven o'clock - he could feel himself go white with fear and his hands began to tremble.

"What?" whispered Evelyn. She was looking at him with her blue eyes narrowed.

The sight of her seemed to slip some reason back into his panicked mind and a bit of color and warmth returned to his face. He had not admitted to her or to anyone else how frightened he really was, though he was sure Evelyn at least knew very well what he was feeling.

"Oh- just, you know, we should get to dinner," he invented. He set to packing up his books immediately, cramming as many as he could fit from the library into his bag. "We're late already and Caiti..." he trailed off. Evelyn hesitated but began packing up too.

Seven days, he thought over and over. Seven days until the first task. Seven days until he would be facing an insurmountable challenge. His only comfort, which Evelyn kept reminding him of, was that the task was supposed to be about intellect, about reasoning, and he was not a Ravenclaw for nothing. Surely he would have an advantage over the other competitors who, as far as he knew, had not spent over six years answering a puzzling question every time they wanted to go to sleep.

"You have nothing to worry about," said Evelyn for the hundredth time when they were safely outside the doors of the library. She carried a stack of books in her arms which Sean had not been able to part with. He had found a gold mine - or so he suspected anyway, seeing as the actual task was still unclear - in a small and little used corner of the library. Books on riddles and paradoxes, on making good guesses, on using magic to break codes, and solve puzzles. Books on finding and following clues, on how to recognize the traces left by hidden magic, and even one which gave a set of steps, supposedly modeled after the muggle scientific method, for conducting magical experiments and tests in a trackable and repeatable manner. Sean was not sure if any of this would be useful in the slightest but he found it fascinating anyway and tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that he would never again be left waiting for someone outside Ravenclaw tower, unable to answer the riddle which the brass knocker posed, as he had done twice before in his years at Hogwarts.

"And will you please take a few of these?" asked Evelyn, now. "My arms are about to break."

Sean hastened to take over half her stack, mumbling, "Sorry." His own shoulder was aching and he knew it was only due to a strengthening charm which he had put on his bag that it did not split.

"I think you're on the right track with all of this," Evelyn continued, nodding at the books remaining in her arms. She was, apparently, oblivious to Sean's lack of attention. He was still buried deep inside the last book he had been reading, analyzing something he had read that hadn't quite added up. "I really do," she said. "I'm sure that logic is what you need to get past whatever it is. And you have that. You just have to keep cool and _think, _riddle it out somehow. And Sean, don't forget you have a wand. It'll be more than understanding or it wouldn't fit in this tournament at all. But the point is, I know you'll have a headstart on the other two, because you're not just talented. You're smart."

She continued to rattle on with words of encouragement and advice all the way to the great hall. Sean only half listened. She only stopped when they had neared Caiti and Marlowe who were sitting next to each other their food already half gone. Caiti was laughing at something he had said, her cheeks pink and her smile radiant. Something about the way she was looking at Marlowe roused Sean back to full consciousness in the present. He had feared this might happen, that Marlowe's obvious affection for his sister might, at some point, begin to be returned.

And while he knew Marlowe well enough, trusted him enough that he did not fear he would hurt Caiti, he could not stop fearing for himself, that if they were together, Marlowe would have no time for him. He would lose his best friend. And worse, if ever they broke up, would it be too awful, too painful for Marlowe to be around Sean, too?

"Happy Birthday, sis," he said, when he and Evelyn had sat down across from them.

"Look," said Caiti, still beaming. She turned her head to peer at what appeared to be a tiny blue pom pom perched on her shoulder.

"Ooh," Evelyn cooed. "It's so sweet, what's it's name?"

"Edison," said Caiti, scooping the little puff off her shoulder and passing him across to Evelyn who took him with wide, bright eyes.

"Marlowe bought him for me," she told them. As Sean watched Evelyn pet Edison with one pale finger, he wondered why he had never thought to do something like this for her.

But he sucked as a best friend with a crush. Marlowe had cancelled quidditch practice, which he cared about very deeply, to take Caiti to Hogsmeade, and Sean... he had allowed his best friend to stay behind and help him prepare for something he knew next to nothing about.

He told himself he would make it up to her after the task had finished, somehow. He could not think that far ahead yet, and anyway, he was unable to feel too guilty about spending the day in the library rather than Hogsmeade. He could think of very little else but that the probability of his dying was greater now than it had been at any point before in his life.

Evelyn passed the pygmy puff back to Caiti, who put it on shoulder again. It dove underneath her hair, emerging on her other shoulder a few seconds later, tangled in gold curls. Caiti giggled and Marlowe reached over to free little Edison from her hair which proved to be more of a challenge than he had expected as the little pygmy puff would not stop hopping around, tying itself up deeper in her curls.

"Do you think he's nesting?" asked Caiti. She and Marlowe looked at each other and then they both began to belly laugh. It was another five minutes before Edison was finally extricated from her hair.

"So," said Caiti, once she had finally calmed down. She began spooning dessert onto her plate; several large pies had just appeared in front of them. "How'd the preparations go, Sean? Making any progress?"

He swallowed hard, hoping that the fear had not shown on his face again. Evelyn watched him closely. He could feel her gaze on the side of his face like warmth, but he did not dare look at her. He stared, instead, at his empty plate, at the fork in his hand.

"Yeah, I reckon I have some ideas now," he said. It wasn't a lie exactly, though he could not help wondering, again, if perhaps he had misheard or otherwise misremembered what the task was. He wondered if either Oscar or Eline had learned any more about the task. Cheating was almost as traditional a part of the tournament as anything else. But Sean, at least, had certainly had not heard any rumors floating around, nor had any of the staff, no matter how fond of him, offered to help in any way.

"So you'll be in quidditch practice, then?" said Marlowe hopefully.

Sean managed a grin. "Not a chance."


	12. The First Task

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twelve. The First Task.

As the week went by, more and more people approached Sean in classes, corridors, the great hall, and the common room to wish him good luck or else to ask what the task was. No one seemed to believe that he did not know. Everyone kept saying they were behind him, supporting him, but he couldn't help thinking a little sardonically that their support would do him a fat lot of good when he was facing whatever he was facing and they were all safe in the stands.

He began seeking out more and more secluded places in the castle, not keen on talking to anyone. He spent a few minutes in the library when he needed to replenish the supply of books he was still perusing, but never remained there. He found empty classrooms instead where he locked the door and did not emerge until it was nearly curfew.

Sometimes he let Evelyn accompany him because, although he did not believe the encouraging words she spoke, they calmed him somehow. Perhaps it was just the sound of her voice, comfortable and familiar, reminding him that even if, after Saturday night, he became the laughing stock of the entire school, there would still be Evelyn to come back to. Evelyn who had not wanted him to enter this stupid tournament at all, but who was doing her best to help him through it all the same. Evelyn who would not care what happened in the task, who would not care if he won the tournament or lost miserably, so long as Sean was still her friend.

But even Evelyn could not completely set him at ease. On the days when they did not share their final lesson, he escaped by himself, content to spend the evening alone, closeted up somewhere with his books and his thoughts. Alone, he thought, no one could see his fear.

On Friday afternoon, Marlowe left him as they walked back from Care of Magical Creatures to go and prepare for quidditch practice and Sean hurried back into the castle to find a new place to hide from everyone. Now, more than ever, he could not bear to sit there with Evelyn telling him everything would be alright. In just over twenty four hour's time, he would have to face whatever was coming and did not want to be told he was ready when he knew very well that he was not.

He found a little used classroom near the astronomy tower and set to work reviewing everything he had thought might be useful and practicing the few spells he had thought could come in handy. Sean stayed there all afternoon and late into the evening, never looking up long enough to notice the darkening skies out the tower window.

Only when his stomach began to growl so loudly he could no longer ignore it did he realize that dinner had ended two hours previously. It was nearly curfew. He would have to go back and hope that everyone had decided to turn in early.

He began to pack up his things, in no rush to get back to Ravenclaw tower. He was head boy after all. He could simply say he was patrolling if anyone asked. And with the task tomorrow tomorrow, he doubted any of the professors would be too upset with him.

Sean dragged his feet, hoping to slow the journey as much as possible. All the way back, the contents of his notes swam through his brain. He could only hope that he would recognize the traces of magic as easily as he could recite what they ought to be. He listed them to himself, head bowed and hands shoved into his pockets.

Warmth or cold, he thought. Changes in temperature. Movement, a rustling maybe, like a breeze. Light. Glimmers. Something in the air. All magic left traces.

Finally, he arrived outside the door of the common room, entering quietly in the hopes that he could slip upstairs, pull the hangings shut around his bed and continue reading by wandlight. But then he saw Evelyn, and though she was not facing the door and had not looked up when he entered, though he had no obligation to let her know he was there, he found himself approaching her anyway.

He sat down next to her on the old, blue sofa, sinking deep into the cushions. He felt heavier than usual, more aware of his own weight than ever. His existence, he realized for the first time in his life, was fragile, and worse, not guaranteed to persist.

Evelyn's hair was a little damp and stringy. He supposed she had just showered. She already wore her white and blue pajama bottoms and an old Kenmare Kestrals shirt which he had lent her at least three years ago. She had never given it back.

"Hey," said Evelyn, easily, as though she did not know what was coming in less than twenty four hours. Less than twenty four hours... he had to repeat it several times, turning it over in his mind, before the weight of that fact could settle in appropriately. Evelyn bent over and began rummaging through her bag on the floor by her feet. He wondered if she was mad at him for avoiding her.

"Hungry?" she asked, offering him a pumpkin pasty she had just produced from the bag. "There wasn't much I could take easily," she said.

Sean blinked at her, almost forgetting in his surprise that he was, in fact, very hungry.

"Yeah," he said finally, reaching out to take it. "Yeah, I am."

Then he added, too late, "Thanks."

Evelyn did not speak while he ate but once the pasty was gone she put away the parchment she had been writing on and asked, eyes on her lap, "How're you feeling?"

Sean almost said he felt fine. The lie was so ready; he had used it so many times this week. But instead, in a very quiet voice he said, "Not good."

Evelyn seemed to have expected this. She took his hand and squeezed it.

"Me too," she said weakly. "I'm scared."

"Yeah," said Sean. "That's putting it mildly." For some reason it did not bother him that she said she was scared. If anyone else had said so, he would have been infuriated. He was the one competing, after all, not her. Not anyone else.

"Want any more help?" she asked. And although he had been planning to continue reading as late as he could stay up, Sean shook his head.

"Come up with me," he told her. He stood, without letting go of her hand, and together they walked up the steps to the boys dormitory. Sean left her sitting cross-legged on his bed while he changed into his own pajamas and brushed his teeth, then he climbed into his bed and pulled the hangings shut. They were washed in a sudden darkness, but Sean could still see her clearly enough. He wondered if they would talk or not, not sure that it would do him any good to. But Evelyn answered for him without being asked..

"Let's just sleep," she whispered.

This was not the first time Sean had thought that Evelyn could read minds. Or maybe just his mind.

He nodded, pulling back the covers. Usually when they did this, Evelyn just lay beside him, maybe holding his hand if she was upset about something. He could remember occasions where they had lain over a foot apart on their backs, trying to keep their laughter quiet as they whispered to each other, joking about their professors and fellow students and each other.

But tonight was different. Tonight, Evelyn lay on her side, right next to him. She put her head on his chest so that he could smell her shampoo - coconut and something flowery - and feel her still barely damp hair on his shirt. Feeling that there were so many things he could say to her now, should perhaps say to her, but not knowing where to begin, Sean put his hand on her shoulder, let it slide down to rest on her waist, and shut his eyes.

Just before he fell asleep, he felt Evelyn's fingers tracing lightly over his collarbone. It raised goosebumps on his arms and he thought that she must still be wide awake. But sleep was pressing in on him and he welcomed it, letting it shut out the day's worries, tomorrow's problem.

Sean woke with the strangest mixture of sensations. He felt at once a kind of tenderness for Evelyn, who was still asleep in the exact position she had been when Sean had first drifted off, and an overwhelming nausea in the pit of his stomach when he realized that, at last, the day was here. There was no more putting it off. And all day he would have to wait, knowing what was coming, unable to stop it coming, wishing more than anything that he could.

Sean did not dare move. He felt that the longer Evelyn stayed asleep, the better. Lying here with her in his arms felt something like a distraction, albeit not a particularly effective one. While she lay there, breathing deeply, calm, he was left to patrol his own busy thoughts by himself. Still, he liked the feeling of waking up next to her. He was more glad than he ever remembered being that she was there.

Evelyn did not stay asleep long, though. Only a few minutes later, she stirred. Her spine arched a little as she began to stretch, and her face screwed up. Much to his chagrin, she rolled off him, onto her back. But her face was turned to him, blue eyes still a little droopy with sleep, but clear as ever.

"Good morning," she whispered. She barely smiled.

Sean could not quite find his voice to respond, but he managed a small, lukewarm smile back at her. He felt it stretch towards his eyes, but it did not quite reach.

They lay there for what felt like a very long time, Sean staring up at the midnight blue fabric above his bed. He could feel Evelyn's gaze, steady on his face. He listened to Marlowe stir in the bed next to him. The hangings slid back, the mattress gave a low groan, and the floorboards creaked under his feet. He heard Marlowe padding towards the bathroom. Not long after, the other seventh year boys began to rise, rummaging through their trunks and whispering to each other. Sean did not move until he had counted five pairs of feet leaving the room.

When he was sure, at last, that it was empty, he looked at Evelyn for the first time since she had woken up. He opened his mouth but realized at once that he did not know what he had planned to say.

"You'll be fine," said Evelyn aloud. "I know you will."

"Please tell me," he began, voice scratchy and low for lack of use, "that I'm an idiot."

"You are," she said, without a second's hesitation. "I told you not to enter the stupid thing. Told you it was more trouble than it was worth. But," she added, right over top of his mumbled defenses. "I knew you wouldn't listen and I knew you'd be chosen and I also know that you can win. You're perfectly capable of whatever they throw at you. And tonight, you're going to do so well."

"And what if I don't?" said Sean, swallowing hard. He did not want to look at her anymore, but he could not tear his eyes away from her steely gaze.

"Not possible," she smiled. "But whatever happens, I'm proud of you."

As she had done all week, Evelyn kept up a constant stream of encouragement all day. She was more nervous than she let on to him. She didn't _really _know that he'd do well. She knew he was talented, certainly, and intelligent and capable, but his nerves were putting her on edge as much as him. What if it was only his inability to cope under pressure, and not his ability to complete the task, that caused him to score low, or worse, to fail to finish at all?

But she was good at hiding her misgivings, as she was good at hiding everything. She was well versed in showing everyone a calm, collected, put together young lady. And she would never let Sean see her doubt him.

Marlowe, Caiti, and Evelyn accompanied Sean to dinner early that night, as the champions were due to arrive to the scene of the first task earlier than the rest of the school. All through dinner, Evelyn watched as he picked at his food, not once lifting his fork to his mouth.

"Sean," she said gently, placing one hand lightly on his arm. "You need to eat something."

"Can't," he mumbled. His mouth barely opened. His skin was chalky and he had his lips closed tightly into a fine line. He looked like he might be sick.

"I think it'll help," she said. She let her hand slide around to his back, smoothing it up and down a few times. "You'll need your strength, you know."

But Sean just set down his fork and shook his head.

Across from him, Marlowe made a valiant attempt to get Sean to think about something else. "Did you hear the Chudley Cannons actually won a game the other day?" he asked. "First time this season I think." He grinned, but Sean did not even acknowledge the comment.

The great hall started to fill as six o'clock approached and Sean, not particularly appreciating the attention stood to go. Evelyn rose with him. "I'll walk down with you," she said.

"No," said Sean. "I'll... see you after."

"Oh," said Evelyn quietly, and she sat back down slowly. He walked out of the great hall with his head down, ignoring the calls of "good luck" from their fellow students.

"God, I hope he does well," said Evelyn in a half whisper, her eyes still on the door he had just exited from. "I just wish he wasn't so nervous."

"Too bad he doesn't have some of that one potion you gave me Caiti. That one to calm you down," said Marlowe.

Next to him, Caiti's eyes became perfectly round. She smacked her palms down on the table making the silverware jump and clatter back onto the wood. A bit of soup sloshed out of her bowl. "Marlowe you are a _genius!" _she said. She threw her arms around him for an instant and then she was running out of the great hall calling, "Save me a seat! I'll meet you there!"

Evelyn looked at Marlowe, utterly bewildered. "She doesn't think she has time to brew a potion does she?"

Marlowe shook his head slowly, looking confused but rather pleased with himself. "No idea."

Caiti tore off to Ravenclaw tower. She knew exactly where her bottle of the calming draught she had made several weeks ago was inside her trunk and she was sure she had a smaller glass bottle lying around, enough for one serving.

Sure enough, she found an empty vial at the bottom of her trunk, underneath a pile of sweaters and her oldest robes, too small now. Quickly, she poured a bit of the potion into the vial, stoppered it, and took off running again, down the stairs to the common room, out the door, and down the hallway to the grand staircase. She had to jump to catch one of the moving staircases just before it detached from the landing she had arrived on.

Then she was flying down the marble staircase, ignoring the protests of one of the teachers who called "Really! There is no need to sprint through the corridors that way! _Slow. Down." _She shoved through the great oak front doors and set off across the grounds, panting, and clutching at a stitch in her side. It had already been fifteen minutes. She had never before appreciated just how far up in the castle Ravenclaw tower was.

She was forced to slow, but she managed to keep up a rapid walk, making it to the place where the task would take place just as the other students were beginning to arrive to watch. She saw a group of Durmstrang students walking over from their ship, still moored in the shallow part of the lake.

They had set up for the task on the grounds near the edge of the forest where the lawns were spacious and open. She approached a small canvas tent set up for the champions to gather inside to prepare and learn the details of the task. She could hear voices inside, but it sounded as though they were having their own private conversations. There was more than one person speaking. Caiti poked her head inside the flap. The Beauxbatons champion, Oscar was standing just inside the door. He jumped. "Did you 'ave something to tell us?" he asked, frowning at her.

Caiti ignored him. "Sean," she said. "A word?" She was still breathing heavily. Sean glanced at Professor Osset, who was busy talking with the two headmistresses from the other schools. Caiti noticed the other judges were also in the tent.

"Out here," she said quietly when he reached her, because Oscar was looking at them curiously.

She led him a few yards away from the tent and then pulled the little bottle of blue liquid out of her pocket. "Drink this," she said.

Sean blinked at her. She shoved it into his hand. _"Trust me."_

"It's not... cheating?" he asked. "It's not..." He trailed off.

"Lucky potion? No. Don't be stupid, that's gold. And it's not ready yet anyway," said Caiti. "This is for nerves. Just drink it, trust me," she repeated.

Sean hesitated. "It's not cheating," she assured him. "Think of it like medicine. People with bad anxiety take it before exams. I promise it'll help."

"I'll think about it," said Sean.

"No, Sean. _Now. _I'm sure it's not cheating, but still, you should drink it here just in case. Not in front of everyone else."

Sean gave her a look like this was against his better judgment but he took out the cork, tipped the potion into his mouth and swallowed. She saw the tension slip out of his shoulders instantly. They lowered a few centimeters. "Thanks," he said and thrust the empty bottle back at her.

Caiti took it, stuck it in her pocket again, and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his stomach, head turned sideways into his chest. She barely reached his sternum. "You've got this," she said. "But don't you dare get yourself hurt. Mum will have a fit if I have to tell her anything happened to you." Then she let go and started to back away, nodding back towards the tent.

"Yeah," said Sean vaguely, after a pause, and he turned and walked back into the tent. Caiti ran off to catch up with Marlowe and Evelyn in the stands.

Back inside the tent, Professor Osset asked everyone to gather round. He put a hand on Sean's shoulder in a paternal manner and said, "Well it's nearly time. I'm sure you're all excited to get started with the task so if we could turn our attention to Mr. Catchlove who will tell you all you need to know before the task begins.

Mr. Catchlove stepped forward, rosy-faced. He was grinning like he could think of nothing better than watching as three barely qualified wizards took on an extremely difficult and dangerous unknown task that could potentially lead to their early demise. Sean decided he hated him temporarily.

"How quickly," he began, bouncing on his toes with his hands clasped in front of him, "we have arrived at this exciting day. The first task. The true start of the Triwizard tournament. We've got three spectacular champions gathered here." He paused, nodding to each of them. "And I know it's going to be quite a treat to watch you all work your way through what we've got in store. Now, if you'll remember our last conversation, I told you all this would be a task to challenge your intellect, your ability to reason.

"The three of you will compete at the same time. There are three glass rooms set up outside which you will enter on our signal. You will not be able to see outside but your many fans, as well as those gathered in this room, your judges, will be able to see inside and watch what you are doing. You will have one hour to break through a series of clues and obstacles in order to find a way to exit the room. Points will be awarded based on the speed at which you escape the room, the manner in which you activate your reason to determine a way out, and your ability to cope with setbacks and added challenges. Everything you need to know to escape is located somewhere in the room.

"And that, I think, is all I can tell you. I'm sure you're well-prepared for the task and anxious to get started." He glanced down at his watch. "We'll begin in just under ten minutes. If you need a drink... some time to think quietly... do what you need and we'll call you back together soon."

Sean did not move when they all broke apart. Oscar went to get water, Eline and her headmistress were speaking rapidly in a language Sean did not understand. His hands were shaking again. He thought it quite ludicrous of Mr. Catchlove to suggest that any of them were _looking forward _to the task. As though it would be a walk in the park, a pleasant evening stroll. What he was looking forward to was when the hour was up and he was done, free until February when the second task was set to occur. Free to attend to the pile of homework he had completely neglected the entire week.

But he found that he could not feel as nervous as he had all day, as he had at dinner, or walking down here by himself. He hadn't been able to bear another few minutes of Evelyn's assurances then. He felt bad now about the way he had brushed her off. He had not liked the look on her face. She had been there for him all week and he had barely shown his appreciation.

He still felt scared, but Caiti's potion had not done nothing. His head felt much clearer. He was able to process beyond his sheer terror now. He did not need to dwell on it any longer.

In fact, he felt sort of ready. The closest to ready he could be anyway.

Ten minutes passed too quickly. The judges shook hands with each of the contestants as they exited the tent, Professor Osset giving Sean a particularly firm shake and a piercing look that plainly said "win." But, like, no pressure, thought Sean, annoyed. Last in line was Mr. Fenwick. Sean noticed he was wearing the same tiny pin on his lapel as the last time he had seen him, no bigger than a knut. It was a dull gold with the letters R.W.W. carved into it and tiny stars in place of the periods. Sean thought for a brief moment that these must be his initials, but realized very quickly that, as his last name was Fenwick, this was impossible.

He pushed it out of his mind, more worried now about his sanity approaching a task like this than the meaning of the little badge. His initials. Honestly.

The champions were led out of the tent by Professor Munslow who had come to fetch them. They emerged behind the stands which had been erected for the occasion so they were not immediately greeted by applause. The second they rounded the corner however, the crowd erupted. Sean chanced a glance up at the sea of faces and was startled to see the amount of blue in the crowd. It seemed that the entire school, even a decent number of the Slytherins, had adopted Ravenclaw colors for the day. His stomach lurched. He could not decide if seeing all those faces cheering him on made him more nervous or bolstered him.

Professor Munslow positioned each of them in front of the door to their room, Sean at the far right.

A few words were said but Sean barely listened. He stared up into the stands , eyes darting around, wondering where Evelyn, Caiti, and Marlowe sat. He could not find them among the crowd, and Evelyn had put her hair up in a bun that morning, which he had always liked, but which also made her far less visible, even with her vibrantly colored hair.

The cannon sounded and Sean was shunted rudely back to what he was supposed to be focusing on. He and the other champions gripped the brass doorknob of the rooms they were meant to enter. He glanced to his left at Oscar, in the middle. They made eye contact, nodded, and then stepped into their respective rooms.

The room was not large, and was empty except for an old black and white clock on the wall with a gold rim, like the ones he had seen in railway stations before, and in the center of the room a large mahogany trunk with leather straps.

As soon as Sean shut the door, the sound and sight of the crowd outside was shut out. The door sealed itself, the hairline cracks melting into each other. His heart had started to beat more quickly. He had not realized that there would not be _any _way out. What if something happened? What if he could not finish the task? Would someone be able to get in to help him? He drew his wand out of his pocket, gripping it tightly, and took a step further into the room. As soon as he did so, a cool female voice spoke. It seemed to come from the walls themselves.

_An hour you'll spend in these walls four  
In which there is no window or door  
You'll make it out with our wand and your head  
If you listen close to what is said.  
First find the place that's North and East  
Then look to where you cannot reach.  
Next, make me children of the moon,  
And you will see what's hiding soon._

Sean frowned. North and East, he thought to himself. North and East. North East. Going with his gut, he placed his wand on his palm and murmured "Point Me." It felt funny to speak in here, the silence, once the voice had gone, seemed too deep to disrupt. He could not imagine that anyone could possibly be watching from outside.

The wand spun around in his hand until it pointed due North. It pointed straight forward at the clock. He turned and walked to the corner on the right of the clock. It only took a few steps to cover the ground.

The Northeast corner of the room. Yes, that must be what was meant by the riddle. But he could not remember what had come next. "Uh..." he said to the room at large. "Could you... repeat the riddle?" After a second he added, "Please?" feeling rather stupid. But to his surprise, the cool voice returned and repeated the riddle.

Look to where you cannot reach? That must have meant he should look up. The ceiling was not particularly high, but it was tall enough he would not be able to reach it. He peered up but there was nothing there.

The next part of the riddle was what really confused him, however. Children of the moon. What on earth was that supposed to mean? He continued to stare up at the Northeast corner for a minute, but no brilliant thoughts came to him so he began to pace around the room, one hand cupping his jaw, the other, clutching his wand, folded across his stomach.

He glanced at the clock. Seven minutes gone already. He would need to hurry. He stared down at the old trunk in front of him, willing it to provide some kind of insight. He was sure that he would need to open the trunk to get out.

Thinking to try something, anything, he tried to lift the top up, but, as he had expected, it was locked. He was almost sure it would not open by magic. Alohomora was a charm learned in the first year. But he pointed his wand at it anyway and said the incantation. Nothing happened except that a few gold sparks shot out of his wand, unable to connect with their goal.

Then it hit him.

Children of the moon. Stars. Sparks, perhaps?

Back in the Northeast corner, Sean shot gold sparks up towards the ceiling. At first, it seemed nothing had happened, but just before they extinguished, he saw something. A tiny glimmer, barely noticeable. But he knew where to look now. He shot up sparks a second time and this time he was sure of it. There was a key there, cleverly disillusioned so it was impossible to see until something crossed in front of it and made it stand out.

His heart began pounding again, but this time with excitement. "Accio," he said firmly, and the little key zoomed into his outstretched hand. He tapped it to lift the disillusionment charm and hurried to the trunk to try it in the lock. It clicked and the trunk popped open of it's own accord. But the trunk was not really open. Inside was a second, slightly smaller layer, identical to the first, with it's own lock.

Sean had barely a moment to register this before the cool voice spoke again.

_At twenty past, you're doing well_

_The next keys lies from whence you fell_

_To sleep at last, the witching hour_

_Waiting and worrying in your tower_

_Wishing you could slow down time_

_Go back to the start of the rhyme._

Once again, Sean was utterly bewildered. This one had to do with the clock. That he knew for certain. But beyond that, he had been given next to nothing. He walked around the trunk to examine the clock, ignoring the fact that he could now hear the trunk behind him rattling. Something was inside, behind the next door perhaps, or deeper within.

The riddle had said the next "keys." Keys, plural. He peered up at the clock. It read fifteen past seven. But that was odd, the riddle had specifically said "at twenty past you're doing well." But it wasn't even twenty past yet.

Then he saw it, the little grooves circling the clock inside which the protrusions of the keys slid, concealed around the clock as time passed. The hands were not hands at all. They were thin, golden keys. If he tipped his head just so, he could see them clearly. But how to get them out? He conjured a stool from thin air, thankful that transfiguration was one of his better subjects, for her could not have reached the clock and he doubted it would be easily removed from the wall. Climbing up onto the stool he made to prise one of the hands out, but found he could not touch the clock. It was as though an invisible force had stopped him reaching further than two inches from the surface.

"Twenty past..." he said to himself. "Twenty past and... could you uh, repeat the riddle again?" he asked the room, speaking up now.

The cool voice repeated the words and Sean snapped his fingers when she reached the third line. The witching hour: midnight! Perhaps if he set the clock to 12:20... but he could not touch it.

He was incensed to see it flick over one minute, as if to spite him. He supposed he could just wait four minutes until he reached twenty past... but time was precious and he had already used a quarter of it. And besides, it would not solve the problem of the hour hand, which stood resolutely on seven.

Sean drummed his fingers on his wand, clutched in both hands. He shut his eyes tight, wishing he could "phone a friend" like in the muggle game shows Evelyn had told him about once.

He opened his eyes again, frustrated. There were dark spots in his vision. Another minute had passed. He would be stuck here for what remained of the hour if he did not find something soon to help. He stepped down from the stool and turned back to the trunk, but as soon as he reached the ground again he saw it. There was something there, something magic. Sean clambered back onto his stool and attempted to break through what he hoped was just a basic shield charm. The way he had been unable to touch the clock certainly backed up his theory.

Tentatively, he reached a hand through again and this time, with a surge of excitement that shot up through his body - first a tingling in his feet, then a somersault in his stomach, and then a shortness of breath - he was able to grasp the minute hand. He began to turn it, the key clunking clumsily over one minute at a time. As soon as they both hit 12:20, there was a loud click and they fell, both hanging loose over the six. Sean grabbed them, allowing himself a moment's regret that he would no longer know how long he had been in the room, and he hurried to unlock the next trunk.

The first key did not fit so he quickly tried the second, the former hour hand. It clicked and opened. Sean jumped backward immediately. His hand gripping his wand tightly in his right hand and the second key in the next. Inside the lip of the trunk he had just opened was none other than a Mackled Malaclaw. It looked almost like an ordinary lobster except that it was twice as long. It looked at Sean with a curious expression, and then began to move towards him. He backed up to the wall, panicked. He had a fleeting thought that he wished there were no one watching. They would not understand why he was so frightened by a creature so miniscule in size compared to himself and not particularly dangerous unless it got near enough to bite you.

But Sean had experience being bitten. When he was seven, the O'Connell's had taken a family vacation to a small seaside village. They had gone out in the evening to watch the sunset and Sean and Caiti had been searching for seaglass and shells in the shallow water near the shore when he had spotted the lobster scuttling along the pebbles and shells a few feet away. Sean had grabbed it and began chasing Caiti down the rocky coast, taunting her with what he thought was just an ordinary crustacean. The lobster, it turned out, was actually a Malaclaw, as he had found out soon after it bit him. He dropped it immediately and it scuttled back into the sea leaving Sean to nurse his hand.

He had had the worst luck of his life for the next week, as was prone to happen after suffering a Malaclaw bite. He had actually broken his leg twice in one day a few days after the initial injury. He had been terrified of them ever since, and now was not the time to have a repeat experience.

He did not know what to do. He held up his wand, staring at the thing and his first thought was that he did not want it to come any closer. _"Impedimenta,"_ he said. It slowed but the spell seemed to break too soon. He thought again. "_Petrificus Totalus." _And now he knew something was wrong, because the Malaclaw froze for a moment and then continued on it's way. As another shiver of fear coursed through him and glanced back at the trunk, wondering if he could somehow get the next key in without getting near enough to be bitten, he realized what was happening.

It was not a malaclaw at all. It was a boggart. It all made sense - it had been in the trunk after all, and boggarts loved small, dark places. Hadn't he heard it rattling around minutes before?

Sean concentrated on the lobster, willing it to become something funny, and said _"Riddikulus!_" Then CRACK. Suddenly, the malaclaw was dressed in a blue baby bonnet with a pacifier sticking out of it's offensive, biting mouth. Sean grinned and it disappeared with a loud pop. He ran to the trunk again and thrust in the next key.

A fourth, still smaller trunk was inside, but this time, in place of a keyhole was a combination lock. Sean had barely begun to examine it when the cool voice had come back again.

_Just one case more beneath this next_

_If you decipher ancient texts._

_First tell me the number whose letters five_

_Spelled alphabetically are ordered right_

_Now split this into digits two_

_And you have found the base and root._

_The second number follows thus._

_Your arms, your legs, your eyes, plus_

_Your ears and hands and feet therein_

_Each one a marriage and a twin_

_A separate part that pairs in bliss_

_Two whole halves added equal this._

_And finally your digit three,_

_A capital O's parody_

_A newborn baby's birthday age_

_An empty circle on a page,_

_Defined as valued nothingness_

_Unquantified elusiveness._

His heart was pounding again, bouncing against his ribcage. He was nearly there, he had to be. Beneath this was one last trunk, if the riddle spoke true. And then he would find his way out - he was sure of it.

Sean took a closer look at the lock again. Four small dials were placed side by side, easy to turn. Now he saw that in place of letters or numbers were small pictures. He turned one of the dials, examining each picture in turn. A unicorn... a graphorn... of course. These were numbers after all, runes. Sean sent up a quick thank you that he had studied ancient runes. He was sure the room provided the information to translate them if need be, but he did not need to waste his time searching for additional clues. He knew what number each picture represented.

The challenge, however, was remembering all that the riddle had said. The first set of clues had been least clear - he would come back to that. The second had listed off body parts. Legs and arms and eyes... all sets. All pairs. Yes, that had to be it. What had the riddle said? Two whole halves? Which, he assumed, meant one and one: two. Without wasting any time he turned the second dial on the lock to two, a picture of a graphorn, it's two horns signifying the number it represented.

This time he did not hesitate to speak to the room again. "Repeat the riddle, please."

He repeated everything in his mind as she spoke again. A number with five letters. Two digits. He did not understand the rest of the first clue. But the last one had been easy enough. He turned the third dial to zero, the demiguise, whose invisibility represented nothingness.

"One more time," he said aloud, and this time he focused hard on the words in the first verse. There was something in it being alphabetical. He began spelling out numbers with five letters: t-h-r-e-e, and s-e-v-e-n. But these weren't two digits. He frowned. It couldn't be a teen, they were all too long. He began counting the letters in numbers divisible by ten, ticking them off on his fingers.

Twenty. Thirty. Forty. He felt his stomach do a somersault as he double checked the alphabet in his head. Yes, that was it. Forty. It's letters were in alphabetical order. He hurried to put the four in the first slot and the zero in the last but the box did not open. His heart sank. Something was wrong. But he was so sure he had interpreted the clues correctly.

Then another line from the poem slid through his mind once more. _The base and root. _He snapped his fingers as he realized what he had mistaken, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Backwards. Four, the first digit, was the base, meaning bottom - in this case, end. So then zero was the root or the start. Sure enough, when he switched the last dial to the fwooper and the first to the demiguise, it clicked open and one final box lay inside.

He thought the voice would return, but it did not and when no other clue revealed itself, he pulled out his wand and resorted to his very first attempt. "_Alohomora,_" he said. The lock clicked open. This time, there was no box inside. Instead, he found himself staring down into something much deeper than he had expected.

He glanced at the clock, forgetting that it was no longer in operation, the hands having been salvaged as keys. He had a feeling he would need to go in, but he had no idea how deep the box was. Could he drop in safely? And what would he be landing in the middle of?

He lit the tip of his wand and shone it inside the box but could see little more than he had been privy to before. Still, no new information had been given to him. He was sure he was supposed to enter the trunk. He waved his wand and conjured a rope ladder which hung from around the open lid of the smallest box and then, climbing over top, he began to lower himself down. The ladder swung and wriggled as he climbed, but he did not dare get a better grip with his right hand for fear of dropping his wand. It was still emitting a thin strand of light which did little to cut through the thick blackness.

He wobbled his way down, nearly losing his footing twice, unable to see where the next rung of the ladder was beneath him, and finally, felt something solid beneath him. It was not smooth or flat like a floor would be though, which seemed odd. He knelt, running his hand over it. It was some kind of a plant.

At his touch, the vines began to snake their way up his skin, looping in knots around his wrist and ankles. Devil's snare. Sean began to panic, really panic, for the first time since Caiti had given him the calming draught before the task had begun. This would be why it was so dark in there. Devil's snare, he knew, existed most happily in the dark and dank. Light was supposed to kill it but his feeble wandlight did not seem to be doing the trick.

Sean could barely think straight. The plant had begun snaking around his torso, pulling him down. His only thought was to keep his wand arm held high, away from the plant. Think, he told himself. Think. If light isn't doing it, then what else does devil's snare not like? Light and... warmth. Yes, that must be it. Barely able to breathe now, Sean hissed the incantation for a flame charm and instantly, the devil's snare released him, edging away from the flickering orange light.

In its wake, he was able to see what he hadn't noticed before, a small round opening to a tunnel, just big enough to crawl through. As there was no other way out but back up, he steeled himself and headed inside, hoping that he was nearly through now. He had to be running out of time. The combination had taken him too long to work out and he had just wasted precious minutes panicking in the devil's snare when he had known what needed to be done all along.

The tunnel seemed to be sloping upwards which made it difficult to keep from sliding backwards on the slippery on surface. In a moment of brilliance, Sean remembered an obscure charm that made your fingers sticky like a tree frog's. He had thought it a bit of a joke when he'd first read about it, but in the current situation, it was exactly what he needed. With newly gripping fingers, Sean was able to climb up much faster. He was certain now that he was heading above ground again. Finally, he saw the edge of a floor and was able to pull himself up and out of the tunnel and into...

But this didn't make sense. He was back where he'd begun, in the glass room with the open trunk and the out-of-commission clock. Feeling a new sort of hopelessness set in, Sean thought he would head back for the trunk, down into the devil's snare again, and search for a different exit, something he wouldn't have recognized before.

Just as he approached the trunk, however, something else came out of it. A huge, hairy, black leg was poking through the open box. It was followed by two more legs which hooked over the edge of the trunk and squeezed a giant, round body, as big around as an exercise ball through the opening which was really too small for it. This setback gave Sean just enough time to move past his terror. The thing, he had realized, had eight red gleaming eyes, and more legs were emerging from the trunk now. An acromantula. He sprang into action.

_"Stupefy,"_ he shouted, but the spider was out of the trunk now and was apparently so large and powerful that the stunner only shot it backwards a few feet. It's legs pulled close to it's body and it rolled over, hitting the wall. Then it stood, clicking its pincers at him and moved towards him again.

Sean backed-up to the wall and bumped into something hard, poking into the middle of his back. He glanced behind him automatically, against his better judgment, but when he saw what he had hit, he was glad he did. A golden doorknob had appeared in the room.

He tried to turn it, but it was locked. The spider was getting too close.

_"Arania exumai!" _he shouted. This time when the spider rolled, Sean saw the key attached to one of its legs, difficult to see as it was tangled in the thick black hair.

_"Stupefy," _he yelled again while the spider was still down. Then, hoping against hope that this would work, he called "_Accio_, key!" And, amazingly, it zoomed towards him. The spider lunged, it's pincers catching his robes and pulling him to the ground. One huge hairy leg pinned him to the ground. He tried kicking it but found his legs were being held down, too. The pincers grazed his shoulder, but Sean managed to stun the spider once more_. _He heaved it off himself, barely able to feel the pain in his shoulder with adrenaline coursing through him, and scrambled up again. At last, hejammed the key in the lock, and he was out.


	13. The Aftermath

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirteen. The Aftermath

Suddenly the whole world came back to him again. A gong sounded somewhere and then a tumult rose up from the stands. The entire school had risen to their feet. Sean felt light-headed with relief. A grin spread across his face of its own accord. _This _was why he had wanted to enter the tournament. This was what he had always envisioned.

The sky was dark now, a deep blue, and there were a thousand stars in the sky, surrounding a crescent moon. He looked to his right where it only took a second to be sure the other two champions had not yet made it out of their rooms. He had won, then, hadn't he? He had been the first to escape, maybe the only one to escape. Time had to be nearly up now.

He heard an amplified voice saying something over the roar of the crowd, but he was not listening. He did not feel quite present. His whole body was tingling like it had fallen asleep and was just coming back, pins and needles. His teeth were chattering although he did not feel cold, and his breath came in shallow and out shaky.

He had done it. He had finished.

Before long, the school nurse, Raigan, had taken him by the arm and was leading him away. He followed her blindly, still stunned into a dumb silence. The student body seemed to be gaining volume with time instead of settling down again. "Don't worry," said Raigan, misinterpreting the way he continued to look back at the crowd as she walked him back to the champions tent. "They won't announce your scores until the hour's up or everyone's finished. But I think the hour will finish first..." She looked down at her watch. "Yes, just three minutes to."

She sat him down on a cot in the tent. "If you could remove your robes," she said. "Just need to take a look at that shoulder."

Sean shrugged his robes off and peered down at his own shoulder. The spider had cut right through his robes and shirt and into his skin. He could see a fairly deep gash through the ripped fabric of his t-shirt. There was some kind of silver gooey substance in it and his skin was looking a little green. Sean looked away quickly, feeling light-headed. He had only just realized that he was in excruciating pain.

The nurse put her thumb and forefinger on either side of the injury and peered down at it for a moment. "Nothing to worry about," she said, but he heard her mumble something under her breath about _acromantulas _and _honestly._

Sean turned his head towards the opposite shoulder while she pointed her wand at the cut and murmured some spell to clean it out. He was surprised to see Professor Mason standing with his arms folded in the doorway of the tent, looking right at Sean. "Nice job out there," he said.

Sean blinked. "Thanks," he said. He winced. Raigan had just put something in the cut that stung and fizzed. It was an odd sensation, like the tissues and blood vessels in one region of his body had been turned to carbonated beverage.

"Sorry, meant to warn you that would sting a bit," she said.

Professor Mason ignored this exchange. "Good to see a Ravenclaw out there," he went on gruffly. Sean got the impression that he did not often give positive feedback and was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He kept looking at the nurse, as if for help.

Sean watched them make eye contact over his head. "Were you a Ravenclaw?" he asked. Professor Mason nodded. "We both were," he said with a pointed look at Raigan.

"I didn't know that," said Sean.

There was another uproar from the crowd outside. "Time must be up," said Professor Mason and he strode out of the tent without another thought for their abruptly ended conversation.

"Bring the others in here, will you?" called Raigan. Sean saw him throw back a hand in assent before he disappeared outside.

Raigan pointed her wand at his cut again and sealed it. "There you are," she said. "Good as new. You'll need to go easy on it for a few days and you may find you're a little dizzy from time to time for a day or so, but nothing serious."

Sean nodded, not quite sure whether he was meant to go back outside or not. Then he heard Eline's voice outside, snapping angrily about the devil's snare. "Oh-" he said. "I think I have a few..." he trailed off, looking at his forearm, now exposed without his robes. Great big bruises were already blooming on his skin. He could only guess there were others like them on his legs and torso, maybe worse.

The others had just begun to file in after Professor Mason when Raigan looked up at Sean. "Bruises?" she filled in. He nodded and she turned back to her things, rummaged through a box for a minute and pulled out a small tub. She unscrewed the lid to show him a thick, gray salve. "Spread that on them before you go to bed tonight and keep it up until they've faded, alright? That devil's snare can be nasty stuff." She handed him the tub. "And incidentally, my daughter... I don't know if you know Piper? I've just remembered she asked for an autograph, if you don't mind. I told her I'd try to get one from you."

"Oh," said Sean. One side of his mouth cracked into a smile. "Sure."

She found him a piece of paper. "You can just sign it, nothing fancy. She'll be thrilled."

She left him to go check out the other two champions and Sean picked up the quill she had handed him. He took a glance at Oscar and Eline, both of whom seemed to be in worse shape than he was. Eline was actually covered in angry, red rashes that were distinctly vine shaped so he thought he'd gotten off lucky with his bruises. Oscar looked physically fine but he was white as a ghost and had laid himself back on his cot where he stared blankly at the canvas ceiling, unblinking.

Sean put the quill to the parchment and wrote a quick note (_To Piper, Love Sean), _feeling a surge of affection for a young girl he'd only ever seen around. It was so strange to think he was some kind of role model to the younger students.

After a few minutes, Professor Mason came back in for the third time and asked the champions to come out for a moment to receive their scores. Sean's stomach started to flip flop again. They followed him out and Professor Osset began to speak.

"I think you will all join me in congratulating our three champions on a job well done." Sean saw his mouth continue to move but the rest of his sentence was drowned out by a new swell of noise from the stands. Even Oscar, who was still looking like he had seen better days, managed a little smile.

"It is now time," continued the headmaster when the noise had died down some, "To discuss the placing at this point in the competition. Points are awarded out of fifty, with ten points possible from each judge."

He turned to the champions. "In third place, Oscar Durand of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, who showed excellent reasoning and was the only champion to reveal the bookcase which held much useful information. Unfortunately, Mr. Durand was stalled by his boggart and did not complete the task. We award him twenty eight points."

The boggart, Sean thought, explained why Oscar had looked so terrified. He glanced at the middle room, which he could still see into and noticed now that Oscar had indeed revealed a small bookcase on the left wall which Sean had not discovered. He hoped this would not count against him.

"In second place," he went on. Sean gripped his jaw tightly and crossed his fingers behind his back. "Is Eline Halvorson of Durmstrang Academy." Sean released his tension again. He had won, then. He had actually come in first place. "Miss Halvorson demonstrated quick responses and kept cool under pressure, but allowed herself to be overtaken by the devil's snare for too long, and had to be rescued. We award her thirty nine points." Professor Pavlov clapped loudly and Sean heard a chant coming from the Durmstrang section of the stands. He could not make out the words, though he thought it might have been in another language anyway.

"And finally, in first place, Mr. Sean O'Connell of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mr. O'Connell was the only one of our three competitors to escape the room which he did with time to spare. An outstanding job, just outstanding. We award him..." he paused, building up the suspense. "Forty seven points out of fifty." Once more, the crowd had risen to their feet and was stamping and shouting. Sean beamed, feeling lightheaded, not from the healing wound in his shoulder, but from pure disbelief.

"Yes, an outstanding job. Outstanding job. To all three of our competitors, of course. As I'm sure you know, the second task will be performed on the second of February at seven o'clock. We can announce today that the second task will be a sort of obstacle course, with various magical barriers to break past. As winner of the first task, Mr. O'Connell will be given the privilege of choosing from three items, each of which will help the champions to pass through one of the elements unscathed. Miss Halvorson will choose from the remaining two items, and Mr. Durand will receive the last.

"But as the second task is still months away, we shall talk no more of it for now. I have only one last announcement before I send you all up to bed or, in the case of our guests and Ravenclaw house, to celebrate with your champions, as I'm sure you are already planning.

"On Christmas night, we will come together for what is perhaps the most beloved part of the Triwizard Tournament's festivities: the Yule Ball. This event is open to fourth years and above, although a younger student may be taken by an older student if desired. We look forward to seeing you there and remind you not to sign your name on the list to return home for Christmas if you plan on attending the ball. Now, congratulations again to these three outstanding young people, and goodnight to all."

Professor Osset pointed his wand at his throat and murmured _"Quietus," _and turned to Sean to wring his hand. "Excellent job, son. Really impressed." He leaned closer and said. "It would be so _good _to have a Hogwarts victory, you know. We haven't won any since the tournament was reinstated permanently. And you just may be the one to do it." He clapped Sean on the back and walked away before he could say thank you. Sean wasn't sure if he felt bolstered by the praise or terrified at the thought of letting his headmaster down after he had shown such potential.

The crowd began to surge out of the stands as the speech finished, everyone chattering excitedly about what they had witnessed, and about the likelihood of a Hogwarts victory in the end. Evelyn shuffled along in the crowd with Caiti and Marlowe going over the finer details of their plan to throw Sean the best post-first-task party they could manage in twenty minutes.

"Okay, so you distract him," Caiti was saying. "So we can sprint back and get food and a few other things ready in the common room. Do whatever you have to to stall him, okay?"

"Yeah," said Marlowe. "Kiss him if you have to. That'll keep him where he is."

Evelyn nodded, her cheeks pink, but did not say anything about this last part.

"Don't forget to get pumpkin pasties if you can," she said instead. "They're his favorite." Her eyes kept darting around. She was feeling jittery, her hands shaking a little. What if he did kiss her?

At the bottom of the stands, Caiti and Marlowe immediately pushed their way through the crowd and took off running. Evelyn watched them for a few seconds wondering how much time she would actually be able to win them, and then began weaving through the crowd like a fish swimming upstream, heading towards the champions who were still talking with the judges, instead of towards the castle. When she had finally made her way to the outside of the moving people, Sean caught sight of her. She stopped and they just looked at each other. Sean gave her a goofy, embarrassed smile, and then she ran at him full speed and threw her arms around him. The force at which she hit him knocked him back a few steps and he laughed as he caught her up in his arms, squeezing her tight.

"I knew you could do it," she told him, over and over. "I knew it."

Finally she pulled back slightly, without removing her arms from around his back. She peered up at him and felt herself blushing again when she realized just how close their faces were. There was a beat when she thought it would happen, thought he actually _was_ about to kiss her. His eyes flickered down to her mouth, but then, instead, he pulled her back into a tight hug. She pressed her cheek into his shoulder, not sure whether she felt more relieved or disappointed.

She couldn't think of anything to say to him so she just stood there and didn't let go, and hoped that just this could buy Caiti and Marlowe enough time.

Eventually, they did need to start heading back up to the castle. A breeze had picked up and it was getting chilly in the dark. Evelyn shivered and Sean wrapped his arm around her shoulders, even though he was the one not wearing robes. She wanted to walk quickly, to get inside sooner, but she also knew the other two would need as much time as possible, so she forced herself to slow down.

"I'm really proud of you," she said after they had walked in silence for almost two minutes.

"What was it like for you?" he asked. "Like could you hear the riddles and stuff?"

"The riddles?" She frowned up at him.

"Yeah, there were these riddles. And it was all based on logic really, getting out. I mean most of it anyway.

"Didn't hear them," said Evelyn. "Weird. And what happened when you went down that ladder?"

"Devil's snare," he said. "And then a big tunnel that led right back into the room and that's when the acromantula came out."

"Yeah, I didn't watch that part," said Evelyn. Sean laughed.

"That's okay, wish I didn't have to either."

Evelyn looped her own arm around his lower back, pulling him into a kind of walking side hug, and decided that she did feel more disappointed than relieved after all.

"Marlowe," Caiti hissed. He looked up from where he was levitating a new cartoonish drawing of Sean, this time holding a bonnet-clad lobster, so that it could be tacked on the wall. The common room was full and bustling - not a single Ravenclaw had gone up to bed.

"We have a problem," she said, sidling up close to him so that no one else could hear.

"What, not enough food?" he asked. They had gone to the kitchens first thing to snag some food from the house elves - Marlowe had learned how to get in when he had, very briefly, dated a Hufflepuff girl in his fourth year. It had fizzled out quickly and they had avoided each other ever since. She had, after all, broken up with him immediately after he kissed her the first (and only) time. But if any good had come from the debacle, it had been learning the entrance to the kitchen.

"No, not that," said Caiti. "Much, much worse. I just overheard Amelia saying she was going to try to kiss Sean when he comes in. And she was showing her friends this chapstick that I saw when we were in Hogsmeade... it's got Amortentia in it."

Marlowe burst out laughing, but Caiti gave him a sharp look that quelled him immediately. "It's not funny," she snapped. "Ev will freak. Because if Amelia kisses him with that stuff on, he won't push her away."

"I need to get me some of that," said Marlowe. Caiti smacked him on the arm.

"Joking, joking," he said. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. We need to let him know somehow, but I think she's going to try to ambush him as soon as he comes through the door."

Marlowe could not keep the grin off his face no matter how hard he tried. "Okay," he said, "Why don't you hang out near the door until he shows up so you can get to him first. People will understand if you hog him. You're his sister. And then you can warn him."

Caiti frowned hard, then she said, "Yeah, okay," and she hurried off to stand near the door, making sidelong glances at Amelia the whole time.

It was another couple of minutes before they showed up. Sean entered first, with Evelyn just behind him. Everyone began cheering again and Caiti saw Amelia heading straight for Sean with a look of determination on her face. Caiti made a run for it and threw her arms around her brother. She pressed down on his shoulders hard to get him to bend down so she could shout in his ear.

"Amelia's going to try to kiss you, don't let her!" she said. But it was so loud in the room. She felt like she was trying to yell underwater.

He looked at her blankly and yelled, "What?" Caiti tried to repeat herself but Amelia had arrived just behind them and Sean, unable to hear her still, straightened up, shaking his head. Then Amelia was on him and Sean, as she had known he would, could not help kissing her back.

The room became, if possible, louder still, with wolf-whistles and catcalls. Caiti looked at Evelyn, her heart pounding. Her friend's eyes had grown wide and her face was even paler than it had been when she had seen the acromantula begin to claw it's way out of the trunk during the task. She ran a hand over her head, apparently unable to tear her eyes away.

Caiti looked back at Sean, wondering what she could possibly do to fix this before it went further wrong. They had broken apart. If she could just get him away from Amelia, make him wipe his mouth off so none of the chapstick remained to blind him to what was happening... but then Sean did the one thing she knew Evelyn would find unforgivable and he kissed her again. She saw Evelyn's mouth shut tightly and her eyes grow pinched at the corners and then she backed right back out of the door she had just come in.

Caiti stayed around only long enough to pull Sean off Amelia and kick him hard in the shin. "You. Complete. _Idiot," _she said. He looked bewildered. Caiti turned on her heel and stalked off, furious with the pair of them. She knew she shouldn't be mad at Sean, it was not _really _his fault after all. But she couldn't help it. Seeing Evelyn's face had broken her heart. She hoped she would be able to find her.

Outside the door, her question was answered immediately. Evelyn had not gone far at all. She was standing just outside, back to the wall with her palms pressed against the stone, taking deep, shaky breaths. She had not started to cry. Yet.

She turned when Caiti emerged and then threw her head back in frustration. "Please, go away," she said. Her voice was thin and high.

"In a minute," said Caiti. "If you want. But first, I need to tell you something."

"What, that's he's been waiting to hook up with her all this time and I should be a good friend and be happy for them?" spat Evelyn. She was blinking very fast.

"Of course not," said Caiti gently. "Listen, I'm not saying he's not a complete jerk. And I just told him so, for the record, but you should know that Amelia was wearing this chapstick... I saw it last weekend when Marlowe and I were in Hogsmeade. It's called Love-Gloss or something. And it's got love potion mixed in with it."

Evelyn glared at her like she did not believe this.

"All I'm saying," said Caiti, backing up again, "is that it wasn't completely his choice. He still sucks. And I don't blame you for being mad at him. But... I don't know... maybe talk to him again tomorrow, and he'll be acting differently." Evelyn's eyes started to go glassy with coming tears. "It's not her, Ev, I promise." Evelyn turned around and started walking very quickly down the corridor. This time, Caiti let her go. She knew perfectly well what it was like to just need to be alone.

She reentered the common room alone and found Marlowe. He had been silently shaking with laughter as she approached but he sobered up immediately when he saw her coming. "Well," he said. She could hear the strain in his voice. "That was interesting."

"Evelyn's a mess," said Caiti. She plopped down on the couch, sliding down low so that her legs were extended straight out in front of her, feet on the ground. Marlowe sat himself next to her, putting one arm on top of the couch cushions around where she sat.

"Well when she knows it's a love potion involved," he began. But she cut him off.

"Told her," said Caiti. "It's gonna take more than my word her to make her forget."

"Come on Caiti, you have to admit it's a little bit funny. Evelyn will understand eventually."

Caiti's eyes flicked over to him, unamused.

"I don't think Sean's ever kissed anyone before, either," said Marlowe. "I mean he's been obsessed with Evelyn for years and too scared to do anything. Neither of them have ever dated anyone else."

"Yeah, and that's tragic. His first kiss was the result of a love potion."

"Doesn't count," said Marlowe. "That's only a technicality. It won't count till it matters."

Caiti considered this. "That's kinda true," she said.

"I know it is. You could have a hundred first kisses before the real one that counts. But that's if you're really unlucky. Does suck that it wasn't Evelyn though," he said, cracking a smile. "'Cause then you would've had to kiss me. I haven't forgotten our bet."

"You're as much of an idiot as Sean is," said Caiti, rolling her eyes.

"Nah," he said. "There's only one girl I'll kiss."

Caiti was trying to think of a good retort when she spotted Sean stumbling over towards them looking lost and dazed. He had apparently broken free from Amelia and his many admirers at last. He saw his friends and headed straight over.

"Hey, where's Evelyn?" he asked. Caiti scoffed at him, and shook her head, unable to come up with words for how she felt about him just then.

"You disgust me," she said finally. "You think she was going to hang around and watch you snogging some other girl?"

Sean got this goofy grin on his face than infuriated Caiti. "Go wash your mouth off, I'm not kidding. Now. And then go find the girl you're actually in love with."

Sean blinked at her. "My leg hurts," he said blankly.

"Good," said Caiti. "That was the point."

Marlowe melted over, head in his lap, laughing silently.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Sean, still grinning stupidly.

"Sean Tomas O'Connell, go upstairs and wash your mouth off, right now!" said Caiti.

"Why?" he asked.

Marlowe looked up at Sean through his fingers. "She used your full name, man, you'd better do it."

"And I'll make Marlowe escort you if you don't do it now," said Caiti, folding her arms huffily across her stomach.

Sean returned downstairs a few minutes later, still looking dazed, but much less jolly. Amelia came running over and said "There you are, silly!" but Sean frowned at her like he had never seen her before and said, "Where's Evelyn?" for the second time.

"Not in here," grumbled Caiti.

"Did she go to bed?" he asked, confused.

Amelia tugged on Sean's arm. "Don't worry about _her, _come on!"

But Sean pulled away from her and then it seemed to dawn on him.

"Did she? She- she didn't see?" he asked. He sound panicked, like he had that morning.

"Sean, you are head boy. You are a triwizard champion. You are a Ravenclaw for Merlin's sake! What do you think?" said Caiti in exasperation.

"Where did she go?"

Caiti shrugged. "Out."

Sean strode away.

"Think we shoulda told him about the amortentia?" murmured Marlowe.

"No," said Caiti firmly. "Let him grovel. Might help her forgive him."

"Hope he kisses _her," _said Marlowe, raising an eyebrow at Caiti. He shot her a cheeky grin that made the one dimple more prominent than ever.

"Oh, give it a rest, Marlowe." She slumped over sideways so that her head was on his shoulder and yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. She never bothered.

"Only joking," he said, but he looked pleased all the same, and let his arm drop from the back of the couch to around Caiti's shoulders.


	14. Friends Without Benefits

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Fourteen. Friends Without Benefits.

Sean woke up the next morning feeling sick to his stomach. He had not been able to find Evelyn anywhere the previous night, and finally, a run-in with Peeves and the realization that it was almost an hour past curfew forced him to turn around and go back to the common room, unsuccessful.

Sean could only assume that she had returned at some point while he was searching, so he had crawled into his four poster expecting to lie awake wondering what to do. But he was so exhausted from the events of the day and from sleeping so poorly all week that, though he hated himself for it, he fell asleep almost instantly and did not wake until late morning on Sunday.

The first task seemed like years ago, now. Faced with the choice of Evelyn not speaking to him or another triwizard task, he knew he would choose the task any day.

After pulling himself out of bed, Sean took up a post in the common room, a chair right in the middle of the room where both the entrance to the girl's dormitories and the door to the common room were in plain sight. Each time he heard the sound of the brass knocker thumping outside, he looked up hopefully, always disappointed when it was not Evelyn's voice that answered the question, or her red hair, blue eyes, and faintly freckled nose coming through the door. He was disappointed, too, when the feet clomping down the stairs to his left were not hers.

Marlowe came and sat with him for a while after lunch. Sean, of course had not eaten a thing all day. He had never left for the great hall, in the fear that he would miss her if he vacated his post. He was determined to wait here in the one place she could not avoid forever for as long as it took.

Marlowe tried to talk to him about the task - as did the many other people who approached him throughout the day, all disappointed to find he was more disinterested in the topic than almost anyone else in the school.

"Marlowe," said Sean. "I just can't talk about that right now."

Marlowe opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but thought better of it and shut it again.

"Sorry," mumbled Sean.

Marlowe gave a jerky shake of his head. "Don't worry about it," he said.

"How am I supposed to talk to her if she's never here?" Sean asked.

"Where does she go when she wants to be alone?" Marlowe asked.

"I have no idea. She's never avoided me before."

"Well, Caiti..." he trailed off, like perhaps he shouldn't say. "I don't know, she likes to be alone when she's upset," he said vaguely. "Maybe Evelyn does too. Maybe it's a girl thing."

Sean frowned. "Caiti never wanted talk about anything, though. Even as a kid, she'd put herself in time-out before she let anyone have a talk with her. Always locking herself in her room. I don't think Evelyn's like that."

"Caiti talks to me," said Marlowe before he could stop himself.

But Sean was not concerned with Caiti right now. He was concerned with Evelyn.

"Maybe she just doesn't want to talk to _me," _said Sean. "Because I've never been the one she was mad at before. Actually that's a lie. She gets mad at me all the time. But never like this. Maybe she's just talking to someone else."

"Caiti," said Marlowe.

"No," said Sean, annoyed. "Evelyn."

"No, maybe she's talking to Caiti, you idiot. I haven't seen her all day."

"Yeah!" said Sean, sitting up with excitement, but he slunk back down again quickly. "Which probably means I'm doomed because Caiti made it perfectly clear she thinks I'm despicable."

"She just thinks you're a jerk," said Marlowe, fairly. "But she knows you didn't mean it."

Caiti showed up just before dinner (refusing to answer Sean's questions about Evelyn's whereabouts but she _definitely _knew something) and then left again with Marlowe who had promised to bring Sean something back to eat. The two of them came back forty five minutes later, dropped off two chicken drumsticks and a roll and, with an apologetic look at Sean, Marlowe followed Caiti to the fireplace.

Amelia showed up later, adding to Sean's dilemma. She had deluded herself into thinking that Sean had asked her to the Yule Ball - words which had certainly never left his mouth - and was keen to discuss whether Sean should add some element of baby peach to his dress robes to match the exact shade of hers. She kept sitting himself on his knee, undeterred when he shoved her off.

"We aren't going together," said Sean for the seventh time that day just as Amelia launched into a new discussion on how he thought she should wear her hair. He was beginning to understand why Marlowe had so resolutely avoided the wedding that summer.

He could hear Caiti and Marlowe laughing over a game of Wizard's Chess, and was quite sure their mirth had very little to do with the game.

Evelyn did not return to the common room until three and half minutes before curfew exactly. Sean gave a start, his heart pounding as fast as it had when the acromantula had lunged at him the previous day. He knocked Amelia aside again and began to rise, but Evelyn stopped in the doorway long enough to give him a look of deepest loathing, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed firmly together, before she stalked off to the girl's dormitories. Sean deeply regretted that he could not follow her up there.

"I'm going to bed," he said to Amelia, and he grabbed his bag and marched upstairs.

He fell back on his bed, yanking the hangings shut around him, and did not bother to change or even remove his shoes. He knew he would not sleep anyway. An unwanted thought popped into his head: only two nights ago Evelyn had been here with him, her warmth on his skin. He was surprised to find tears pricking in his eyes, not enough to spill out, but enough to burn a little, and to make his throat tight and eyes red.

He felt embarrassed though there was no one here to see him. Sean was not a crier.

Why had he done it? He had never given Amelia a second's thought. It just didn't make sense. There was no reason for any of it.

He had to find a way to talk to Evelyn, to explain, somehow, that he _could _not explain what had happened. That it did not mean anything. That it had always been Evelyn, ever since they were eleven years old and he first met her as she sat down at the Ravenclaw table next to him, her red hair frizzy and her eyes alight. He had to tell her that she was the first girl to make him really realize that girl's were something he was interested in and more importantly, that no other girl could ever compare, had ever compared. It hadn't taken long to realize that it wasn't girls he was interested in after all, it was Evelyn.

It was sappy and he knew it, but it was true.

Monday morning, Sean walked blearily into the great hall. He had not slept more than an hour total (very interrupted) all night, and had been hard pressed to get himself looking presentable. He found Evelyn already there and, feeling slightly more alert already, made a cautious approach. He sat down at microspeed, giving her every opportunity to send him away. Instead, to his utter disbelief, she said a curt "Good morning," without looking at him and returned to her breakfast in stony silence.

"Good morning," returned Sean. He was impressed with the amount of pleasantry he had been able to keep in his voice. He wanted to talk to her, really talk to her, discuss what had happened.

But Evelyn seemed determined not to let him. "Nice day," she said. Her gaze never wandered from her food.

Sean decided that he would suffer through the small talk if it opened up any possible avenue for a deeper conversation, but at that moment, Amelia exhibited her worst timing yet by sliding onto the bench next to him. She leaned over to kiss him but Sean jerked away, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Stop," he said.

Evelyn had already lifted her plate and walked away further down the table. Sean groaned and put his face into his hands on the table.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" asked Amelia. Sean sat bolt upright again, looking furious.

"Amelia," he snapped. "You are not my girlfriend." He stood. "And we're not going to the ball together." He strode straight back out of the room without eating, though he had barely eaten the whole day before. He only felt slightly bad about the way he had raised his voice at her.

Sean did not find another opportunity to speak to Evelyn until Wednesday afternoon when she was coming into the common room and he was leaving for quidditch practice. All week, she had been careful to sit far from him in classes and spent so little time in the great hall that he could not catch her there except in passing.

He was infuriated that he had finally run into her when he could not stay. Marlowe would murder him if he missed practice after he had given him the entire week off before the first task.  
"Evelyn," he said, taking hold of her upper arm just below her shoulder. "Can we please talk later?"

Her face was hard as she considered him, but she nodded. She started to turn to go but he said, "I'll be back at eight. Just... I don't know, meet me upstairs or something. Quieter up there." She stood still with her back turned for a second but did not otherwise acknowledge that she had heard. He was forced to hope that she would show up and hurried out so he would not be late to practice.

"What's apparition like?" asked Caiti. She trailed her fingers along the stones on the wall and occasionally across portraits, who wriggled away as she tickled them. "Watch where you put your fingers, girl!" called one particularly severe looking old man who she had accidentally poked in the eye.

Caiti half-sprinted away giggling and Marlowe jogged to catch up.

"Uncomfortable at first," he said in response to her question. "But you know it's just like anything else, takes getting used to."

"Yeah, but what does it _feel _like?" she pressed. Her first apparition lesson was that Saturday and she was more nervous than she cared to admit. Her experiences with brooms and floo powder were not good ones, despite having grown up with two magical parents. The only form of transportation she had ever used in the magical world that she was fond of was the Hogwarts Express which was perhaps the least magical of them all in the usual sense, but the most magical to Caiti. It was quaint and enchanting.

"I dunno," said Marlowe. "Kind of squeezes you, doesn't it? Lots of pressure. But you don't really need to worry about it, yet. I'd be shocked if you apparated this lesson." Caiti looked affronted so he hastened to explain. "Not because you can't," he said. "No one does the first lesson. And if anyone tells you they did, they probably jumped into their hoop when no one was looking so don't believe a word of it."

"Sounds like it sucks," said Caiti, wrinkling up her nose.

"You'll be fine," he assured her.

"Doubt it," said Caiti, with a good-natured shrug. "Lord knows I'm too clumsy for anything."

"Doesn't take much physical ability," Marlowe assured her, laughing.

"Says the soon to be world-famous quidditch player," said Caiti, raising her eyebrow at him.

"You flatter me," he said.

They continued walking in silence for a minute. Caiti had recently taken to meeting him at the entrance hall when he came in from Quidditch so they could walk and talk on the way back. He was always the last to come up and she would stand against the wall inside the oak front doors watching the rest of the team making their way inside until he arrived.

"Why was Sean in such a hurry?" she asked, remembering how he had been the first one inside, speed-walking up the corridor like a stay at home mom on her ten AM walk, hurrying to nowhere.

"Something about Evelyn, I'm sure," he said. "We'll hear all about it tomorrow." While Caiti had been talking with Evelyn about their situation, Marlowe had been talking to Sean, and subsequently, the two of them had been comparing notes all week.

"Honestly, I hope they just sort it out themselves. I'm sick of their drama."

"Agreed," said Marlowe with a grin.

Back in the common room, Sean hurried to the study area up the stairs and was relieved to find Evelyn already sitting there on the one couch along the back wall. It was otherwise empty, and he thought perhaps this was her doing, because there was always someone up there, diligently working their way through a difficult potions essay or charting stars for astronomy. He took thirty seconds at the top of the stairs to catch his breath, having practically sprinted all the way up to Ravenclaw tower. He was still sweaty from practice, dressed in his quidditch robes and wished he had had the foresight to put on some deodorant.

Evelyn was sitting on the end of the couch with her knees tucked up on one side of her and a book on her lap. Her towel-dried hair fell around her shoulders leaving a few damp patches on her t-shirt. She had as usual, changed into her pjs before anyone else, tonight dark blue with small elephants. Evelyn had always loved comfortable clothes and blankets and cuddling. Anything warm and soft. It was the reason that she and Sean had been so touchy all along without ever escalating things.

Out of the blue, Sean remembered how Marlowe had bought Caiti that pygmy puff. He had been coming back to it all the last week in the odd moment he was not worrying about the first task. It was stupid thing to worry about, but he couldn't help wishing he had had the idea first. Caiti didn't even like Marlowe as far as Sean knew, and Marlowe was still a better potential boyfriend than he was. Evelyn would have loved one, soft and fuzzy as they were.

When he sat down, she took her time marking it, closing her page, and rearranging herself to sit against the arm of the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest and her long, willowy arms hooked around them. "Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," said Sean.

They both looked at each other. Neither knew where to begin. He knew every inch of her face so well. Clear, pale skin, and eyelashes that she complained were too short though they definitely weren't, and those little gold flecks in her bright eyes. The way her nose peaked just slightly and was dusted in faint, barely there freckles that could be found nowhere else on her face. The way her mouth was always the first to let on to whatever she thought she was hiding so well that day - nerves or disbelief or maybe just butterflies. All of it was so familiar.

And it made him all too aware of the fact that he had never felt so uncomfortable in front of her before.

"I'm so sorry," he said finally, when she did not speak, and in response, she did not look away, but didn't speak either.

"I'm... the world's biggest jerk and- and an idiot for potentially ruining..." he trailed off. He had never told her how he felt about her before in words. He thought she probably knew, the way he sort of knew it was reciprocated, but still, he'd imagined telling her before, and this had never been quite how it went down in his mind. Part of him wanted to save it for the "right moment" as he had imagined it.

"Evelyn," he said, because she still remained petulantly silent. "I'm not making excuses. I feel horrible, but- but I don't know what happened." Evidently, this had been what she was waiting for, because finally he saw her draw a breath and open her mouth to speak.

"Caiti told me some story about love-potion infused lip gloss," she said. She looked like she did not believe a word of it. But all the sudden Sean's brain went into overdrive. He had never heard of that sort of thing before, but if it existed - and he could leave it to Caiti to be informed about any product that involved potion-making - well, it made sense, didn't it? The blank spot in his mind where he remembered _what _happened, but not how or why. The way he had so quickly gone from dazed with attraction to dazed with confusion when he had followed Caiti's orders and washed his mouth off in the bathroom upstairs. And hadn't she tried to tell him something just before it had all happened? Hadn't his sister shouted something he had been unable to hear?

But why hadn't she told him later then, afterward. It could have saved everything. Why had she told Evelyn and not him?

"Don't tell me that's your story too," said Evelyn, annoyed with his moment of reverie.

But he had remembered something else too, a whiff of coconut. He turned faintly pink, heat creeping up around his ears. Evelyn scowled, perhaps thinking that his blush was caused by his having been found out mid-lie.

"Just tell me what you see in her," said Evelyn, looking away now. Her voice nearly broke, but she managed to keep it in check.

"Nothing," he said immediately, finally finding his words again. "Absolutely nothing. Listen, Ev, I didn't know about that potion or whatever it was. Honest. This is the first I've heard of it."

Evelyn rolled her eyes at him.

"No, please just listen." He scooted a little closer to her in his earnest. "Right before... you know... Caiti hugged me. As soon as you and I came in. You saw. And she tried to say something to me, but I couldn't hear her, and I figured it was just congratulations or something so I let it go, and then... it happened, and- and there's like a blank spot in my memory. Like I literally did not think during that time. I don't remember any of it. Specific facts sure, what happened and all that, but like... no awareness of myself."

Evelyn was looking more and more skeptical all the time so he sped up.

"And then Caiti kept telling me to wash my mouth off. I don't know what I said or anything, but I guess I did, because then I remember coming downstairs feeling like I'd just been through war or something and you were gone and I realized what had happened and I've been miserable ever since. Ev, I never would have... I never... it's always been you." He said finally. The heat in his cheeks was undeniable now. He knew he was bright red. His stomach felt all twisted up and there was a funny tightness in his throat and behind his eyes.

She had finally looked down and he saw her knuckles were white on her knees.

"Amortentia makes you smell the things you're attracted to," Sean said slowly. "And I smelled coconut." He took a slow deep breath and psyched himself up. "Like your shampoo. It's always been you," he said again.

Evelyn blinked a few times in quick succession, staring down. "I know that," she said very quietly.

Sean was confused now. If she knew, if she believed he did not care in any way for Amelia, why had she avoided him all week, why had she seemed so angry?

As though she had read his mind, she answered his question.

"It terrified me," she said slowly, apparently working hard to keep her voice from shaking, "how much it bothered me... to see you with someone else." Her eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second but she looked away just as quickly with a sharp intake of breath, barely audible. A single tear leaked out the corner of her eye.

Sean did not know what to say to this, so he reached out and, very gently moved her hands from her knees. She lowered her legs and allowed him to pull her into his arms. Evelyn kept her arms folded close to her own body, clutching at his sides instead of wrapping them around him in return. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"You really don't have to worry about that," Sean promised.

Evelyn let out one little sob, her back shaking.

"You're the biggest jerk ever and I hate you and you should never, ever, ever do that to me again," she said. She let go very suddenly and said, "I need to go to bed."

Sean nodded and watched her stand to go but before she could leave he said. "Ev?"

She stopped, facing him again, tears still sparkling in the corners of her eyes.

"Are we okay?"

She gave him a little quick nod, and he thought she would leave, but she stayed there, staring at him with this searching look.

Sean stood. He thought he might kiss her, finally, but there were still tears on her face, and again, this was not how he had imagined the moment. That at least, he wanted to save. So instead, he brushed away a tear and, cupping her face in his right hand, kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight," he said. Evelyn stood very still through all of this, and then, this time for real, she walked downstairs without looking back.

Evelyn stopped when she spotted Caiti and Marlowe, sitting with their homework spread all around them on the floor and the little blue pygmy puff rolling around the book Marlowe was trying to read. Marlowe flicked it away and Caiti looked appalled. "Tell Edison you're sorry."

"Sorry, Edison," said Marlowe in the sort of slow, glum, sing-song voice common in six year olds made to say sorry to their classmates when, in fact, they were not feeling sorry at all.

"He says that's alright, but he's got an owie. Kiss it and make it better."

"I have to kiss Edison, but I can't kiss you?" he said.

"Nice try," said Caiti with absolutely no emotion. She had clearly been expecting that one.

Evelyn saved Marlowe by announcing her presence. "Caiti?" she asked. Caiti turned. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She pushed off Marlowe's shoulder to stand and Marlowe said "That'll cost ya," but she just nudged him with her toe and followed Evelyn upstairs to the girls dormitories where they sat side by side on the edge Evelyn's bed and she recounted the entire conversation.

"You two," said Caiti, when she had finished. "Are disgusting, and I'm embarrassed to know you. I _told _you you had nothing to worry about."

But Evelyn was crying much harder than she had let herself in front of Sean. Caiti gave her a tight hug.

"I h-hate fighting with him," Evelyn said.

"It sucks," Caiti agreed. She pulled back all of the sudden. "You wanna hear what I think? The honest truth?"

"How harsh is it?" Evelyn sniffed.

"Not sure yet," Caiti said honestly. "But it might put things in perspective."

Evelyn fell backwards so she was lying across the bed with her lower legs dangling off. "Go ahead," she said.

Caiti took a minute to compose her thoughts. "I think," she began, "that acting, to an extent, like a couple, and knowing perfectly well that both of you want to be together, but not doing anything about it is putting strain on your friendship."

Evelyn had begun to say something but Caiti waved a hand at her.

"Just wait. I think it's got both of you confused, because you don't know if you're allowed to admit that you like each other. You don't know how you should act, what's appropriate, what's too much. You're scared to change how things were, but the fact is, they've already changed, and you're trying to deal with that without any sense of certainty. Because you don't know what you are right now. And so when things happen that test that, it's already fragile, and you're both a little on edge about each other and the little things are getting to you more than they need to, because you're so hyper aware of what you think you want. And really, what you think you want isn't what you want at all. What you want is what you already have. Plus a little bit."

"Which is what?" asked Evelyn. Tears were drying on her face now and she was frowning, trying to follow Caiti's train of thought.

"You want to be best friends who make out," Caiti said bluntly.

This actually got Evelyn to smile a little bit. She let out one single laugh through closed lips.

"See, I'm right," Caiti said, satisfied with the result of her psychoanalysis. "So all you need to do is kiss him or tell him you're in love with him or maybe both. Or at the very least, just ask him out and make it clear it's a date and not just friends doing friend things."

Evelyn's face fell. "I can't do that."

"Give me one good reason why not."

"Too shy," said Evelyn.

"Get over it," Caiti said bluntly. "He's your best friend. If there's anyone you should be totally confident around, it's him."

"But that's just it," said Evelyn, rolling onto her side and propping her ear in her hand. She sniffed again. "It's all harder with him. I know him so well. I'm scared. And then... what if he says no?"

"Don't be stupid," Caiti smiled. "He won't."


	15. Apparation

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Fifteen. Apparation.

Caiti walked into the great hall on Saturday to find all the house tables stacked against the walls. The stone floor had been covered in silver hoops, arranged in neat lines with several feet of open space behind each one. The sixth years were scheduled for their first apparation lesson and for once in her life, Caiti had arrived too early. This was something that, had she not been eternally late anyway, she would normally have tried to avoid. She hated having to spend the minutes waiting for something to begin standing around awkwardly.

More than ever, she felt uncomfortable when it was only her class around. Though she was certainly friendly enough with many of them, Caiti wasn't close with the other sixth years. Now that she was no longer dating Theo, her one go-to person was hardly an option and she was certainly not going to try to talk to Amelia and Miriam and the rest of their clique. She wished she could have taken apparation with the seventh years the previous year. She had been one of the first to turn seventeen after all, and had not started lessons until after her birthday, which seemed silly now she realized it.

She saw Theo laughing with a group of his friends a little ways over, people she had formerly known quite well, but now felt she was not allowed to talk to. Breaking up sucked. Having all your best friends in another year sucked. The fact that the first term of her sixth year was already nearing its halfway point, putting her ever-closer to the dreaded friendless seventh year... that definitely sucked.

Caiti sat down in the center of a hoop in the center of the room, thinking that, perhaps someone would take pity and talk to her. It looked very odd to see the great hall so empty and it felt all the emptier because she felt so out of place. She could not wait for the hour to be up so she could return to the common room and meet Marlowe. They were going to go get some work done in the library to escape Sean and Evelyn's drama. The two of them had stopped fighting, but were being unbearably polite to each other. The elephant in the room could not have been more massive.

Just for something to do, she pulled her hairband out of her hair and began combing her finger through the top, separating a bit of hair from the front so that she could begin to french braid. No one seemed bothered that she was sitting all by herself in the middle of the room, not talking to anyone. Not even the people she talked to regularly in classes.

Finally, the apparation teacher arrived, escorted by wispy, old Professor Munslow. Caiti hoisted herself up and folded her arms behind her back, clasping each hand at the elbow of the opposite arm.

She thought the teacher seemed far too large to be able to apparate at all. He was fairly short, but quite wide, with a stocky, muscular build. She wondered if this made him a good teacher, because perhaps he had had such a hard time apparating at first that he could now sympathize with those dunces who could not manage it. Caiti was sure she'd be spending a lot of one on one time with him, as one such dunce.

"Welcome," said the teacher in a loud and powerful voice, "to your first apparation lesson. My name is Mr. Barnaby. Over the next twelve weeks, we'll be practicing and preparing you for your tests this spring. Apparation is not learned in one day. I expect very little progress in the first weeks and you should not either, though that should not discourage you whatsoever. Please remember that except for special circumstances inside the great hall and _only_ during these lesson times, there is no apparation in or out of Hogwarts and you would be very ill-advised to try." He paused here for effect. "Now, the first thing you need to do is memorize what we call 'the three d's.' They are _destination, deliberation, _and_ determination._"

Mr. Barnaby paced back and forth while he talked, exactly three steps to the right and then three to the left each time, punching his right fist into the palm of his left hand whenever he emphasized a word. Caiti was not sure whether she felt exceptionally safe in his presence or if she was terrified of what might happen if she disappointed him.

Mr. Barnaby did not seem keen to talk long. Only five minutes into the lesson, he had them all positioned outside their hoops, repeating the three d's in their heads, and trying, for the first time to apparate. Caiti was not feeling sufficiently determined. She had absolutely no desire to find herself in the middle of this hoop, nor did she feel at all capable of doing so, now or ever. It was only when she glanced around and saw a few people trying to jump into their hoops when they thought no one was looking that she began to cheer up, remembering what Marlowe had told her. She felt a little less hopeless knowing that she at least wasn't resorting to that.

She spent the remainder of the hour standing firmly outside her hoop with her gaze fixed in the middle of it, willing herself to disappear and reappear two feet in front of her with absolutely no progress. She thought she would have had much more luck apparating if she had been told to go to the library, to Marlowe.

By the end of the lesson, nothing whatsoever had happened to anyone, although she could hear a lot of people telling anyone who would listen that they had felt a pull beneath their navel while others frantically denied to their cackling friends that they had tried to fake apparating by jumping into their hoop.

In the bustle to get to the door and enjoy the rest of the weekend, Caiti found herself stalled right next to Theo. "Oh, hey Caiti," he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hey," she said. Her lips quirked into a tiny, tiny smile. There was an awkward silence, but the line was barely moving and they were stuck next to each other so Caiti said, "How've you been?"

He shrugged. "Alright." He seemed fidgety and she got the feeling he had something on his mind that he wasn't sure if he should say. Theo had always been an open book. He couldn't hide anything. It was the reason it had been so easy to get together with him. It would have been impossible to doubt that he was interested in her.

"Your uh, your brother did a good job last weekend," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah, he did."

"Glad he got first place."

"Me too." It was excruciating, this small talk. Why was the line not moving faster? Not that it would have been much help - they were going to the same place, after all.

"So..." Whatever it was that she had sensed was coming, she could feel it. "There's that ball I guess. Should be interesting."

Caiti glanced at him, praying that this was not headed where she thought it was. Thankfully, they had made it out the door at last so it would be easier to slip away if necessary, pretend she was in a hurry or something. "Should be," she agreed.

"You thought much about it?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

He ran a hand through his hair. She knew this was one of his nervous tics. He used to do it whenever he wanted to ask her something. He had done it before he asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him the first time, before he had kissed her, before he'd asked her to be his girlfriend, and then over and over again when she had been trying to explain why they had to break up.

He had been quiet too long. She glanced at him again. He looked like he was bursting to say something, but then he dropped his hand and shut his mouth and whatever it was didn't come out. Caiti thought this was probably lucky on her part, because if she had been right, if he had been thinking of asking her - as friends or not - she would have had to say no, and it would not have been enjoyable.

But she had thought too soon. Caiti had only just noticed that they were lagging behind the other Ravenclaws heading up to the tower when, courage regained, Theo spoke very quickly. "I was thinking about it a bit," he said. "And neither of us are... are with anyone else. And I thought you know, like.. we'd probably have fun together. So maybe we could just, you know, as friends... go together or... or..." He stopped when he saw the look on Caiti's face: pity.

She hadn't been able to stop it, though she knew he would hate it. He'd think it condescending.

"Or not," he finished, scowling.

"Theo..." Caiti tried.

"No forget it, it was stupid," he said shortly. He started to speed up away from her and Caiti ran to catch up.

"Theo, I'm sorry!" she said. "I'm really sorry. I just... I don't think it's a good idea. For me, at least."

"Yeah," he said, "I get it." And this time, she knew it would be stupid to follow him. Here was his temper again. She had seen the flash in his eyes and the way his nose wrinkled.

Caiti stood alone in the middle of the corridor and threw her head back. The suits of armor along the wall turned their empty helmets towards her in curiosity. She could not believe he had tried asking her. Did he still want to get back together? He had seemed so over it before. And now, just when Caiti was finally starting to feel okay about the whole thing, he was trying to wriggle his way back in.

But she could not let him. She was happy. She was sure, at last, she had made the right decision.

"Alright, tell me what happened," Marlowe said fifteen minutes later as he and Caiti began their walk to the library. "Someone get splinched or something?" He had been able to tell immediately that something was bothering her, but she had not broached the subject herself.

She shook her head. "No it's not about apparation."

"Okay," he said. "Then what is it about?"

Caiti's forehead creased. "Theo asked me to go to the ball with him."

"Oh," said Marlowe, who had not been expecting this at all.

"I told him no, obviously," she continued, and Marlowe felt relief flood through him like he'd just taken a sip of Caiti's calming draft. "I just can't believe he would ask. He acted like I had no other options and he was doing me a favor."

Marlowe kept quiet, thinking hard. How many options did she think she had? He had not given the ball much thought, but discussing it made him realize that he had always assumed he and Caiti would be going together. What if she hadn't assumed the same thing? What if there was someone else she had in mind? He decided he would need to get on it fast and ask her himself before someone else could, someone else she would not say no too so easily.

But then a new fear crept into his mind. What if she said no to him, too? And she might, he thought. They were friends, best friends even. But how many times had she said no immediately when he asked for a kiss? He was always joking (mostly), but still. What if she said no to the ball just as easily? What if she thought that was a joke, too?

"But anyway," said Caiti. "He's stupid, so whatever."

Marlowe managed to laugh, but he could not fully hide that he was preoccupied. Luckily, Caiti was preoccupied too and didn't ask questions.

When they arrived in the library, they found their favorite table in the back left corner by a big, tall window. It was snowing for the first time and Marlowe looked out over the grounds and watched lazy white flakes collecting on the windowsill. There was not yet enough snow to cover the grass and bits of green poked out through the frost, but it was sticking. This was the first that it had really felt like Christmas was coming.

They sat down on opposite sides of the table and began pulling out their homework. Marlowe had a particularly nasty essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts which he had hoped to finish that day and Caiti had just pulled out her transfiguration book. She got to work right away, sitting with her legs hanging over the arm of her chair and her book on her lap. Marlowe thought it looked very uncomfortable.

He tried to get started on his essay, but he couldn't get the thought of Caiti going to the ball with someone else, anyone else, out of his head. He pulled the one unused chair over and sat facing sideways to the table with his feet on it so that he could write against his knees. He did not want Caiti to have the possibility of reading what he wrote upside down on the table, because he was not about to write his essay.

Instead, he began a letter to his mum. He had never talked to her about this sort of thing, about girls before, but he knew she would have good advice. Had he been going home for Christmas, he wouldn't have done it - she would have been unbearable, always asking him questions and trying to catch him off guard to get him to spill his feelings to her. But he also knew she would be thrilled to write him back the sort of detailed and useful response he needed.

This was something she could understand, girl problems. It made no difference that she was a muggle. It had always bothered her that only Marlowe's dad could give him advice when it came to his lessons and his future job prospects, something which Marlowe had long felt guilty about despite not being able to change it. He didn't like her to feel useless or inadequate. She wasn't. She just had different expertise.

_Hi Mum,_

_How are you? Sorry I won't be home for Christmas. Kinda sucks, but I think this ball thing will be fun. At least Elliot will still be able to go home because he's too young to go. He's been doing well in quidditch. I'm proud of him. Hopefully he'll make the team for real next year. I'm getting really nervous for the next game even though it's far away. Slytherin's got a good team and the scouts will be back. I know they're watching to see how I play more than whether or not we win, but as captain, I think it would speak well of me if I've got the whole team playing well and not just me. I'll keep you updated and stuff. It'd be cool if I got on a pro team because then you could come see me play and you've never been to a quidditch game I don't think. You'd like it._

_My friend Sean won the first task of that tournament I told you about which was cool. Maybe Dad showed you the paper, I don't know. There was probably an article about it or something. That's why we're having this ball, to celebrate with the people from the other schools. I actually wanted to ask for your advice about that. You remember Sean's sister, Caiti? We've always been good friends and stuff, but she broke up with her boyfriend at the end of last year and we've been getting really close now that she's around us more. I really like her and I want to ask her to go with me, but I don't know how to do it. I'm scared she'll say no, because I think she only likes me as a friend. I thought maybe you'd have some ideas, since you're a girl and all. I don't know. It's not a big deal or anything, but I thought I'd ask._

_See you at Easter maybe,_

_Love,_

_Marlowe_

Marlowe folded up the letter and tucked it inside one of his books. He would take it up to the owlery later and send it. Maybe he could borrow Sean's owl. Caiti looked up at him. "You're already done?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "Haven't started yet. Had to write my mum and tell her why I can't come home for Christmas."

Caiti looked back down at her book. "How come I've never met your mum?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Marlowe. "Maybe soon. She'd like you."

"Sean, look at this," said Evelyn. They were sitting in the common room by the fireplace and Sean was trying to catch up on the work he had fallen so far behind on. Things between them were, slowly, starting to go back to normal.

She passed him the morning's copy of the daily prophet which she had received earlier that day at breakfast. Already, they had read through the article describing the results of the first task which had come out a few days late due to some big news at the ministry which he had not paid much attention too.

Now that the article was out, Sean knew it was only a matter of time before one of his parents sent a letter in fits about the Malaclaw incident which had, unfortunately, been described in detail. He had had to tell Evelyn the story already, bringing the total number of people who knew of the incident up to five, including himself. Caiti, he was relieved to note, had let it slide under the circumstances of the Amelia situation. But he was sure that, had things gone according to plan, she would have teased him something awful.

He looked at the story Evelyn was pointing at now. She was up to date with her homework and had been keeping him company by perusing the paper beyond the front page articles. He had a feeling she was looking for more stories related to the muggle-baiting incident of a few weeks previously. He hoped that this article, hidden deep within the pages and not accompanied by a photo, was unrelated.

_MAJOR BREACH OF INTERNATIONAL STATUTE OF SECRECY_

_This past weekend, a group of no less than two dozen masked wizards worked their way into the center of a crowded concert put on by popular muggle singer-songwriter Owen Eoghans. Dressed in robes and masks like those of You-Know-Who's former followers, the death eaters, the wizards were already gaining a fair amount of attention, though they might have passed for some sort of cult if they had not, apparently following some sort of cue agreed upon prior to the start of the concert, disapparated all at once._

_Muggles, as we know, will do almost anything to ignore that they have witnessed magic, which makes apparation a generally plausible transportation option in a crowd when it is only a single person and it is performed carefully. Not even the most unbelieving muggle, however, can ignore when suddenly a standing room only concert goes from completely packed to emptied out in the middle in a split second. Nor could they deny the exceptionally loud crack that resulted from so many disapparations at once._

_The prophet discussed the incident with Andrea Malbeck, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. "As you can imagine," says Malbeck, "it's been quite a job for the ministry to smooth things over. The group didn't apparate to any one location, which makes it much more difficult for us to track who the offending people were. The muggles who witnessed the event had to have their memories modified, including Eoghans and his band members, of course, but the damage goes beyond that. It took quite some time to track down all those people at the concert, and by that time, the muggles had told their families and friends... it was in the muggle papers before we could cover it all up. We'll be dealing with this for weeks."_

_We asked Malbeck what she thought of the masks. "It certainly has us on high alert across a number of departments. This is the second time we've got wind of a group of masked wizards, resembling death-eaters, involved in some sort of incident near muggles, and in a short time too. We can certainly be thankful that this incident was non-violent, but that does not make it any less frightening. The goal this time, it seems, was to make known to muggles that wizards are out there. Further events will become harder and harder to cover up. It's near impossible to find out who still knows about the incident. Word spreads so quickly."_

_The incident has no resolution in sight, but we are, as Malbeck says, grateful that the act was non-violent this time._

Sean handed the paper back to Evelyn in disbelief.

"Isn't that scary?" she said quietly.

"What's the point of doing something like that?" asked Sean. "I just don't get the appeal."

"It's like they think it's funny," she said. "It could drive someone crazy, things like that. If I'd been there just a couple of years ago, before I knew... well, I probably would've checked myself into a mental institution right away."

"It's not funny, though," said Sean. "It's stupid."

Evelyn tucked her knees up to her chest. "Makes me want to talk to Professor Mason again."

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither one going back to what they were doing. "Hey, that reminds me... Professor Mason was in the champions tent when I finished the first task for some reason, seemed like he was just hanging around with the nurse."

Evelyn smiled, which surprised him.

"He said something about them both being Ravenclaws, too," he added.

"I think they're friends," she said. "Earlier this term, when I went to get that pepperup potion when I had a cold, he was there talking to her when I came in."

"You sure they're just friends?" Sean asked grinning. "They're both young aren't they?"

Evelyn laughed. "Seemed like a friendly conversation. And anyway, didn't you see his face when I asked if he knew that auror they interviewed last time?"

Sean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he changed the subject pretty quick. Whoever that woman was was more to him than a coworker."

"Hmm. Guess I wasn't paying attention to that," said Sean. "Well anyway, I thought it was odd no one had ever asked about these two before. You know how gossip spreads."

"That," she said, "is a great question."

Sean tried to go back to his work, but now the task was on his mind. They had not really talked about it except a brief conversation as they'd walked back up to the castle before everything had happened, and he had just remembered something else.

"Hey wait, do you know anything about the letters R.W.W.?" he asked.

"No, why?" she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Mr. Fenwick wears this pin... I've seen it twice now. And that's what it says. It stands for something."

Evelyn tipped her head to one side. The hair she had just tucked back fell out again. "It's not his quidditch team?"

"Definitely not, I'd've recognized the logo."

"Weird," she said. "Maybe it's a membership or something."

"Yeah, maybe," said Sean. They fell into silence again. He was not sure why he cared so much anyway.

Later that evening, as they packed up their things before they headed down to dinner, Evelyn asked, "Do you think these people are trying to expose magic to muggles for the same reason they did the last time?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sean. His brain was still wrapped around the Care of Magical Creatures essay he'd been working on.

"Do you think they want to rule the muggles?" Evelyn asked. He could quite not read her face. Her eyes looked fierce, rebellious, but her lips gave away her worry.

Sean could not answer her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I hope not."


	16. Invitations

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Sixteen. Invitation

As he had expected, Marlowe's mother wrote back almost immediately. He received his letter the morning after he had made it up to the owlery to send it, but, knowing what it might contain, he did not open it at the table. He waited until he was getting into bed that evening to open the envelope and find out whether his mother's advice was as helpful as he had hoped.

Mrs. Finnegan loved Christmas more than any other holiday so he was not surprised to find that she had already broken out the festive stationery, gold foil edges and a faded green chevron background on top of which she had written her letter in her signature blend of cursive and print.

_Marlowe,_

_Don't pretend this is a new crush. Mother's know better. You've fancied her for years, and if you really think she doesn't like you too, then I think they've put you in the wrong house. Aren't you supposed to be the intelligent ones? She's going to say yes, so don't worry about that, but I do think you should make it special. That way when you get married, she'll have a good story for the kids_.

_I've been on the internet doing a bit of hunting around for ideas and I found out that in the states, the kids are doing these things called "Promposals." They're real elaborate and all, writing "Prom?" on the sides of buildings or flying a blimp over the school and things. So I'm not suggesting you do anything like that. But something more personal. Like I saw one about a kid who wanted to go with a friend of his and they had an inside joke about asparagus so he gave her an asparagus bouquet, and, because he was a lot taller than her, made a measuring stick at his height that said, "You have to be this tall to say no to prom with me."_

_You've got to be able to come up with something. Make her laugh or smile. You're a funny kid, you can do that. And she's one of your closest friends, so I know you can come up with something. Just think about her interests. Think about what you've done together. And make sure you tell me what you come up with._

_Now, there's one other thing. I don't know if this a tradition in your world, but it is in mine. You should order her a corsage to wear on her wrist. You have to find out what color her dress is - or I guess you all wear dress robes, don't you? That's why I had to send the ones you forgot this year, isn't it? - so that the flowers will coordinate. I can take care of ordering it and just send it to you if you'd like. No one else will probably have one, so she'll think it's special. A little something extra, so she knows you care about it and about her._

_Oh, Marlowe, I'm just so excited that you're finally going to get a move on! From everything I've heard, she seems like just the sort of girl for you. And her brother is such a good kid, I know she'll be just as lovely. I hope you'll let us meet her. Why hasn't she ever come to stay when Sean has?_

_Nothing new going on here. Keep an eye on Elliot for me, and let me know how it goes with Caiti!_

_Love,_

_Mum_

_P.S. Great news about the Quidditch thing! I don't really understand it all, but I'm so excited for you! I'll make your dad explain better._

_P.P.S. Don't worry, I won't tell him about the girl_ :)

Marlowe frowned at the letter for several minutes. He had thought, at first, that it was pretty useful, but the more he reread it, the more it became perfectly clear that she had given him nothing at all to work with. He could not give Caiti a bouquet of asparagus.

Sean stopped in the middle of his pre-bedtime organization ritual to appraise Marlowe. "You look constipated," he said.

Marlowe folded up the letter and said, "You look... dumb."

Sean grinned. "That's the best you can come up with? You're losing your touch."

Marlowe glared at him before falling back against his pillows with an air of drama worthy of Caiti herself. He opened his mouth, thinking to ask his friend for advice, but then, that was stupid. Sean was Caiti's sister. He could not ask him what he thought the best way to ask his sister out was. He closed his mouth again.

But who else did he have to ask? This was becoming a real problem. He needed to come up with an answer. Stat. He opened his mouth again.

Maybe he could just ask Evelyn instead?

He shut it.

"And now you look like a constipated fish," said Sean, who had been glancing at him over the lid of his trunk where he was pulling out the books he would need tomorrow. "What's up?"

"I want to ask Caiti to go to the ball with me," he said finally.

Sean turned back to his trunk and began putting things neatly in his school bag. He emptied it out completely every night and refilled it only with what he would need the next day. Marlowe had watched him do it a thousand times, never any less shocked. His own bag got cleaned out completely once a year when he got home from school and his mom unpacked everything for him.

"Figured you'd come around to it eventually," said Sean.

Marlowe looked up, startled. "What?" He had expected anything from anger to disgust to complete surprise, but he definitely not expected him to act as though this was what they had all been waiting for. This was not predictable. No one knew he liked Caiti.

"Said I figured you'd come around to-"

"No," said Marlowe, cutting him off. "I heard you. You're not... that's not weird to you? You aren't mad?"

Sean shrugged. "Better you than someone else. And anyway, she likes you."

Marlowe was glad that Sean was now busy laying out his clothes for the next day, something Marlowe had never once considered doing before he was actually about to get dressed. He felt his cheeks growing hot. "What, she said that?" he asked.

"No."

"Then how-"

"Marlowe, she's my sister. It's not hard. You can read Elliot, can't you?"

"Yeah, and speaking of which, he fancies someone and I can't figure out who it is," said Marlowe darkly. "But anyway... I need help. I don't know how to ask her. What if you're wrong? What if she says no?"

Sean frowned, pulling back the covers on his bed and crawling in. Marlowe rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand to continue talking. "Just ask," said Sean. "What other way is there?"

Marlowe decided against bringing up the promposal information his mom had cooked up on the internet. He remembered how she had tried to get him interested in it as a kid, said other kids were dying to be allowed on the internet, but he hadn't been able to find the scores of the last Kenmare Kestrals match anywhere so he lost interest quickly. He only wanted to get outside on his Cleansweep 500, the first broom he'd ever owned. Still, she continued to be enamored with the internet in a way that made him think the search engine was the closest thing to magic she would ever know how to work and therefore found it invaluable, despite its insistence on pulling up positively useless information like asparagus bouquets.

"So what, you think it's easy then? You asked Ev already, have you?"

Sean sighed through his nose. "That's different. She's still acting funny around me."

Marlowe rolled his eyes. "It's obvious why, isn't it?" Sean did not answer this so he went on. "She thought you were gonna kiss her after everything happened. And you didn't and it put her off. She basically admitted to you she was in love with you, didn't she? And you might have _said _something like it back, but my mom always said actions speak louder than words."

"Yeah, well," Sean waffled. "The mood was all wrong."

"Excuses," said Marlowe. "The sooner you kiss her the-" he stopped. He had been about to say 'the sooner I win the bet and Caiti has to kiss me,' but he could not say that to Sean. He always pretended like he had gone suddenly deaf when talk of kissing Caiti came up. "The sooner she'll cheer up," he finished too late, trying to cover his mistake.

"Well still," he said. "It's not like they'll say no. Just ask her."

"You don't know that," said Marlowe. "She refuses to kiss me all the time. How do I know she won't say no to this, too? How are you gonna ask Ev?"

"A kiss is different than an invitation. Maybe she's just waiting for you to ask her out on a real date first," said Sean, ignoring the second half of Marlowe's question.

"And maybe Evelyn is waiting for you to stop being a prat and just kiss her already," Marlowe retorted.

They both laid there staring up at the hangings over their beds. The lights were still on in the room and no one else had gone up to bed yet. It was not really that late, but Quidditch practice had worn them both out.

"You know what we need," Marlowe said finally.

"What do we need?" asked Sean.

"We need a man day," said Marlowe. "These girls are... they're ruining our lives. We've gotta do something, just us, that they won't want to do. Man stuff."

"Alright. Like what?" asked Sean with a laugh.

"I don't know yet," said Marlowe. "I'll get back to you."

One of their fellow seventh years, Sam, passed through the room. "You guys want the lights off?" he asked, frowning at the pair of them, pajama clad and under the covers.

"Yeah, please," said Sean. Sam flicked the switch off and proceeded to the bathroom to shower, leaving the two of them in the new darkness. Marlowe blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. White spots of remembered light flashed in front of his eyes whenever he opened them.

"How are you gonna ask her though?" Marlowe asked again. His voice sounded much louder in the dark. "Can't just pop it in in the middle of a conversation, can you? Too weird. It's gotta be it's own thing."

"I'm going to bed," said Sean, ignoring him once again. He heard Sean pulling the hangings shut around the bed and, disgruntled, Marlowe followed suit.

"What about a note? Would that be weird?"

"Shut up, Marlowe," said Sean. His voice was already thick with coming sleep, but Marlowe lay awake in his bed, thinking his latest idea over. Yes, a note would be good. Simple enough, personal, something she could keep and look back at if things went well - girls liked keepsakes and trinkets didn't they? The question was what to write and how to slip it to her. There was one thing he knew for certain though. It had to happen soon. Before someone else realized how cute Caiti was and beat him to it.

Caiti felt like she blinked and it was December. Snow had become what seemed like a permanent part of the Hogwarts topography. It collected around the edges of the windows, coated the castle turrets, and fell in great clumps from tree branches sagging under its weight, an unwelcome surprise to the unsuspecting passerby. Each morning the blanket of snow lay afresh, perfect, only to be trampled in footprints before the first lesson of the day when groups of students making the trek to herbology or care of magical creatures were forced to brave the cold.

Caiti was glad that she did not have to leave the castle today. Not that the dungeons would be much warmer. When she entered her potions lesson, a chill ran right through her, raising goosebumps on her arms and legs. She decided not to go to her usual table, which was right by the wall and the only window in the room, but to go to the opposite side, as far from the icy window as possible.

She grabbed her cauldron and lugged it over to where she had dropped her bag. She had only just sat down when a voice behind her said, "Caitlyn O'Connell! What brings you to my neck of the woods?" It was Bill, the new quidditch commentator and her muggle studies buddy.

She grinned at him as he sat down, but grimaced at the unceremonious way he dropped his cauldron on the ground. "I've gone on holiday," she said, choosing not to mention the many things she would have liked to say about proper cauldron care. "Realized I lived in the arctic and thought it was time to escape."

Bill laughed. "Well you're welcome to crash on my couch."

"Thanks," said Caiti. "I already have."

She and Bill had never had a serious conversation in all Caiti's years of knowing him. It was one of the reasons she got along with him. Theirs was a no-pressure sort of friendship. A just-for-fun, never too attached, convenient friendship. She would never think to go to him for the deep things, but when she just wanted someone to talk to and have fun with, some company without all the analysis, Bill was the perfect person to go to.

"Only problem is," Bill was saying "now you're here, whatever I do that might've been passable is going to look like utter rubbish next to yours."

"Not if you pick up some tips by watching," she said. When she was younger she had always denied that she was any good at potions, not wanting to boast. At this point, though, she had so far surpassed her class in skill that her talent was infamous and there was no point pretending she didn't love it more than any other branch of magic. Especially after their O.W.L. grades had come out and she had received an Outstanding with a special note regarding this subject in her envelope. Caiti did not know how it had happened, but word had got out to the rest of the class and she had been forced to emphasize the fact that all her other grades - while passing - were as average as anyone else's, or at least, as any other Ravenclaw's.

"Mm. Didn't think about that," said Bill.

Professor Pym entered the room and cut their conversation short. Caiti's attention was immediately rapt when she began to tell the class about the Confidence Concoction they would be brewing that day. It was one of the few potions in Advanced Potion Making that Caiti had not already tried, and she was excited for a challenge.

"It's a tricky potion. Done right, the drinker will feel prepared for anything, regardless of preparation. Great for calming nerves, something like a calming draft, although the effect is not so soothing as exhilarating. It makes the drinker want to get out and do something, face the thing they wanted to face. It calls for action. So you can imagine that there is a time and place for each. You would not, for example, want to use a confidence concoction in place of a calming draft for someone who's just suffered a great shock or is feeling distressed."

The class took a moment to giggle darkly at the thought.

"Again, this is a tricky potion. I want to emphasize that, because if not done just right, the effect will be too strong, and therefore dangerous. Overconfidence leads to recklessness, and more than once the drinker of a poorly done confidence concoction has died in a valiant attempt to perform some dangerous task that they would have thought, rightly, impossible if not for the over-zealous effects of the potion. You'll want to be especially careful not to over-stew your nettles."

With that, Professor Pym tapped her wand on the blackboard and the instruction appeared. "Off to work," she said.

Caiti read through the instructions twice, comparing those in her textbook to those on the board for any inconsistencies, as was her custom. Then she began to work, feeling butterflies in her stomach that most people reserved for first kisses. Caiti often felt them when she was attempting a potion for the first time; that mixture of nerves and excitement was no different now than when she was around someone she had a crush on. She was glad that this potion could go so easily wrong. Half the fun of potion making was troubleshooting. The ability to adjust on the fly was what turned a good potioneer into a great one.

Next, she began organizing all the ingredients she would need. She preferred to prepare them all ahead of time if possible, and this potion cooked fast so she would have no problem fitting everything into the time-frame of the double lesson.

She noticed Bill, who had already set the water in his cauldron boiling, quickly put the flame out again and started organizing ingredients the way Caiti was. She smirked a little, but she didn't mind. She was used to copycats.

Bent over her work surface, she sliced roots, chose large spiders with great care, and counted out her nettles. She separated each ingredient into it's own neat pile, equidistant along the table, and then, when everything was ready, she filled the cauldron and lit the flame underneath with the tip of her wand.

At this point, most of the class already had potions frothing in their cauldrons, but Caiti could tell with a quick glance around that most of them had underestimated how quickly things would get rolling. All around the room, people were frantically chopping their roots, trying to get them in before the nettles over-stewed.

Caiti tipped her own nettles in and sat back, calm, watching steam shoot up from the water and then settle back down before the water returned to boiling. She reduced the heat. This was not in the directions, but she had a feeling it would solve some of the recipe's problems. She gave the potion a few stirs and, feeling satisfied with the result of her gamble, continued on with the instructions as written.

Next to her, Bill was frantically trying to mimic Caiti's every move, though he was doing so sloppily in his haste not to miss a moment of her work. Caiti was glad she had stopped brewing the potion at a boil. It was still cooking quickly at a lower heat. She had just enough time to give each instruction the attention it needed.

When the class ended, Caiti's potion was the precise shade of sunset orange that the recipe specified. Bill's was one of the best in the room, a deep blood red. Most of the others were a distinctly unpleasant brown hue, also known as burnt nettles.

Caiti filled a flask with her potion to turn in, but Bill sat staring into her cauldron in awe. "What?" she asked, with an amused smile.

He shook his head side to side in disbelief. "Watching you make a potion," he said, "is like a religious experience."

Caiti laughed out loud. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But at that moment, Professor Pym, who was making her usual end of lesson circle of the classroom to see everyone's final products, arrived at their table. Bill looked up hopefully and did not answer. She didn't make a comment, but she did give him a nod as if to say it was passable.

She smiled, as always, when she got to Caiti. "Lovely," she said simply. Then, when everyone had begun to pack up, she passed Caiti a piece of parchment, folded up twice. Caiti beamed and took it. She knew what this was.

Professor Pym had been something like a mentor ever since Caiti had discovered that she was not only good at potions, but enjoyed it. Every once in a while, her professor would send her with an extra potion recipe she thought Caiti might enjoy tackling, something that wasn't covered in the usual coursework. Caiti appreciated this, because it kept her interested in and engaged by a class that might otherwise have felt too easy. It did get frustrating, sometimes, being the best in every lesson. She wanted something to practice, something to need to improve at. So Professor Pym had been finding her more and more difficult potions to try. She would meet with Caiti outside class time and help her work through them until she got them right.

Caiti tucked the recipe into her bag to look at later and followed Bill out of the classroom. Everyone was in a particular hurry to get to lunch today, for the great hall was always much warmer than the dungeons anyway, and it had been particularly frigid, especially so once the flames under the cauldrons had been extinguished all across the room.

She and Bill chatted their usual nonsense all the way up the stairs and to the great hall. Just outside the doors, Caiti started to raise her hand in farewell so she could head off to the Ravenclaw table and he to Gryffindor when Bill surprised her by putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I was thinking," he started.

Caiti looked up at him. He had always been so confident, so easy around her. She had never seen him this way. His narrow eyes were slightly pinched in the corners and his tan cheeks showed the faintest flush. "D'you maybe want to go to the ball with me?"

Caiti blurted out "No," automatically and immediately regretted it. It wasn't that she didn't think he would make a good date; she actually thought he would be quite fun. The word had come out before she even knew what she was going to say. "I- I mean," Caiti stammered. "It's not that I wouldn't _want _to, I'm just... already going with someone," she lied.

"Oh," said Bill looking slightly relieved. "Yeah, yeah okay. Sure... well, have fun. I guess I'll see you there."

"Yeah," said Caiti. She managed a small smile and hurried away, hoping that this didn't affect their friendship. He was one of the few people she could count on to talk to her next year.

Her cheeks were hot when she sat down next to Marlowe. She had actually begun sweating. "Bill just asked me to go to the ball with him," she spat out. She stared down at her empty plate, blinking resolutely. Her hands gripped the edge of the table.

"Crap!" said Marlowe, much too loud.

Caiti was almost more surprised by this than she had been by Bill's invitation. "I said no," she told him.

Marlowe tried to play it off that he had only dropped his fork, but Caiti didn't believe it for a second.

Caiti's second invitation knocked Marlowe into high gear. He had to do it. He had to ask her. Like, yesterday.

The problem was, he still did not know how, and he was becoming increasingly nervous that she would say no to him, too. Perhaps she just didn't want to go.

Or perhaps, but this was the more hopeful side, she had said no because she was still waiting for someone else (him) to ask her.

It was this shred of potentially reckless hope that made him sit down in his room after lessons ended that day and scribble down a note which he subsequently tore up and tried to rewrite, neater the second time.

But how to deliver it? He kept staring at it like it would somehow give him the answer he was looking for. He folded the parchment absentmindedly, creasing it hard, and then opened it back up again.

Then it hit him, and he set to work.

Caiti sat curled up on the end of the couch by the fire in the common room, reading over the paper that Professor Pym had given her at the end of class. Her stomach kept flipping around joyfully at the thought of it.

The Wolfsbane Potion.

Professor Pym thought she would need to practice it several times at least, but she was sure she'd be capable of brewing it correctly. It was immensely tricky. Caiti had never seen a more complicated potion, nor one that mattered so much to get right. It was finicky and temperamental, the instructions laid out so thoroughly that Caiti suspected she would need to have it completely memorized before they ever started practicing.

Professor Pym had suggested a meeting time in her note where Caiti could come to her office to work on it.

If she could make the Wolfsbane potion...

It was the sort of thing only professionals made. Not students.

She began to read over the recipe again, grinning to herself, when something white zoomed right past her nose, circled her head, and then fluttered into her lap. Once it had gone still, Caiti saw that it was an enchanted paper airplane. She looked up, thinking that someone must be missing it, but no one was hurrying towards her to retrieve it so she inspected the airplane instead. She was about to put it to the side when she noticed something underneath one of the wings: part of a word, handwritten, the rest concealed in the folds.

Cautiously, she began to unfold it revealing the rest of the words.

_Will you please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please go to the ball with me?_

It was not signed, but Caiti knew Marlowe's handwriting. His O's were never closed, his S's loose and slanted. She smiled in spite of herself, her lips pressed tightly together.

Looking around again, she spotted him standing on the bottom step of the staircase to the boy's dormitory, one ankle crossed over the other and leaning casually against the wall, watching her. He gave her an embarrassed smile when they made eye contact. Caiti lifted her hand, motioning with one finger for him to come over.

She looked down at the note again when he made his way across the room to her. She wanted so much to be coy and casual, to keep the fluttery feeling in her tummy to herself, but with each 'please' it got harder to contain her smile.

Marlowe stood in front of her with his hands shoved into his pockets. Caiti looked up at him and saw him run his tongue between the semicircle of his upper and lower teeth. She patted the spot next to her on the couch and he lowered himself very slowly. She had never seen him sit up so straight.

Caiti looked at him with her mouth partly open and an unreleased inhalation pulling her chest upward. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his neck and said, "Yes." There was a short pause and then she felt his arms snake around her lower back.

"Cool," he said. He laughed. Caiti thought he sounded relieved.

The next morning, Marlowe and Sean found themselves alone for the first time that day while heading out to Care of Magical Creatures. Sean had taken a leaf out of Evelyn's book and balled up his fists inside his sleeves, but it didn't do enough to block out the cutting wind. He had hoped that class might be cancelled because it was the coldest it had been so far, but unfortunately, here they were, trudging through a blanket of trampled snow. It was too cold, even, for any new snow to fall. Instead, what was left was iced over and extra slippery.

They didn't talk much as they walked, keeping their heads bowed against the wind.

"So, I asked Caiti to go with me," Marlowe said finally. His voice sounded shaky, as though talking at this temperature took a great effort. Sean understood how he felt. His own teeth were chattering violently.

Sean swore, glad that the wind sucked away most of the volume, because he had shouted.

Marlowe laughed. His smile looked tight and awkward on his red, frozen cheeks.

"I told myself I'd do it before you," Sean explained.

Marlowe grinned. "Well, better do it quick. The ball's only a few weeks away now." This explained why he had had an extra spring in his step all morning and why Caiti had been so intent on not looking at Marlowe – or anyone else, for that matter – at breakfast. She kept smiling at her eggs instead like they were the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Shut up," said Sean. He did not want to talk about it more. His teeth went horribly cold each time he opened his mouth and let the wind whistle in.

That afternoon, as they were leaving transfiguration, Professor Westwick pulled Sean aside. "Mr. O'Connell, a quick word please," he said, sorting through a stack of essays the seventh years had just stacked on his desk.

"I'll wait for you," Evelyn said, and she went to stand in the hallway. Sean hoisted his bag up his shoulder and approached Professor Westwick's desk.

"Now, as I'm sure you've realized, the Yule Ball is approaching quickly. A very fun event, of course, but a certain amount of formality all the same," explained Professor Westwick. "You and Miss O'Sullivan will be sitting with the headmaster and headmistresses as well as the other two champions and their dates. The three champions and their partners also open the ball, performing a short dance for the rest of us gathered there before others are allowed to join in. Nothing too scary, but I wanted you to be aware."

During this whole speech, he never looked up from the papers on his desk.

Sean stared at the top of his purple pointed hat. "What's Evelyn got to do with it?" he asked.

"Well unless you plan to dance by yourself," he said with a chortle. "I think you're date will have to be involved, won't she?"

"I haven't asked her yet," said Sean automatically. He did not mean to tell his head of house the details of his personal life.

Finally, Westwick looked up. "Well, get a move on, boy," he said heartily. "She's waiting outside the door for you."

Sean rather resented being told to ask a girl out by his professor. Feeling embarrassed, and a little ashamed of his own fears, he clunked back out of the classroom. The door swung shut behind him with a firm click and Evelyn, leaning against the wall with her legs out a foot or so in front of her, looked up.

"What was that about?" she asked.

But Sean didn't answer. "Ev," he said. His heart was pounding and his voice sounded thin and tight. Why was he so nervous? It was only Evelyn. "Will you go to the ball with me?"

Evelyn looked surprised for only a moment. "Of course," she said.

Sean relaxed. He nodded once, adjusting his bag again. It was heavy today. "Cool," he said, beginning to smile. "Yeah. Great." He kind of laughed and then, putting a hand on her upper back, leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

Only he didn't.

Without even planning it, he had kissed her. Actually kissed her. Like, on the mouth. It was only a peck, brief and dry, but still. His face turned bright red and he quickly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evelyn raise one hand slowly to her mouth, hovering a few inches from her lips.

"Well," she said, finally. Her voice was too high. "Shall we- go then?"

They walked in silence, neither of them acknowledging what had just happened. Sean was not even sure he had enjoyed it. He had not, after all known it was happening until it was over. He wanted to try again, but did not know how to initiate. After a few minutes, because he did not want her to think he regretted it, he worked up the courage to take her hand, feeling an immense wave of relief when she interlocked their fingers.


	17. RWW

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Seventeen. R.W.W.

The last week of term had arrived leaving everyone anxious to turn in their final assignments and finally get a break. The whole of Ravenclaw house, it seemed, had gathered in the common room, sluggishly forcing their way through the last of their homework and trying hard not to think how close they were to freedom.

Sean and Evelyn sat on a plushy sofa covered in a blue, brocade fabric with Marlowe sat across from them in a large armchair. It had been over two weeks since Sean and Evelyn had kissed, and still, neither of them had acknowledged it, excepting the fact that Evelyn finally seemed to have forgiven Sean completely for his amortentia-induced indiscretion and had resumed her usual habit of using Sean as a pillow as often as possible.

Tonight, she was pressed into his side with her homework spread across both their laps. Sean was trying to balance his textbook, class notes, parchment, quill, and ink, all on the arm of the sofa. Still, he kept his left arm around her, though he probably could have used an extra hand for his balancing act. He kept almost losing his notes as he rifled through them one-handedly.

Marlowe kept giving them disgusted looks from the armchair chair opposite them. Evelyn knew he minded their touchiness much less when Caiti was around. But tonight, she was gone at some meeting she had been very eager to go to, but strangely reluctant to go into detail. She had practically skipped out of the common room.

Evelyn dragged her finger across the text of what she was reading. The last thing she had to finish up before break was an excruciating essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts on the "history of rights for magical creatures of high intelligence from a defensive standpoint," whatever that meant. She was struggling to pay attention. DADA had never been her favorite subject, but she'd kept it into her N.E.W.T. years, because she felt it was probably important to know.

She turned the page, reduced now to skimming, rather than reading. Until she came across something that made her sit up.

"Sean," she said suddenly.

His arm slid off her shoulders when she moved. "Huh?"

"What was that thing you asked me about. Those initials?"

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"Mr. Fenwick, remember? The tournament. You asked me about those initials, what were they?"

Sean frowned. "R.W.W. wasn't it?" It had been awhile since he'd thought about it.

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she whispered.

"What?" asked Sean. He sat up too now, interest piqued. Half the contents of the arm of the couch fell off as he shifted. Thankfully, the ink bottle, which he had left open, remained stationary.

"Only, I've found out what it means," said Evelyn. And she pointed to the middle of the page so Sean could read.

_Among the greatest leaps in the last decade towards a more accepting and whole wizarding society are the Wolfsbane Laws, so named for the potion which is among the most spectacular achievements of a branch of magic which is often overshadowed by flashy wandwork. In brief, these laws made it possible for victims of lycanthropy to come out of hiding and lead normal lives among the wizards they once felt they belonged among. _

_While prejudice still exists, the laws have, as a whole, made the workplace a much more approachable place for the able werewolf. For the safety of those working closely with these wizards, it is required of all werewolves entering the public space that a badge is worn with the initials R.W.W. (Registered Werewolf), so that the condition, while no longer considered a setback or ultimatum, is not kept a secret. _

_As can be gathered, all lycanthropic wizards must register through a system similar to that which tracks animagi, so that they can be tracked and maintained for the safety of the public, especially around the time of the full-moon. Though the program is not official yet, an initiative has been set forward to make it possible for all registered werewolves to have access to the wolfsbane potion monthly, free of charge. This process has been slowed by the unfortunate lack of wizards capable of brewing such a complicated and important potion._

Sean looked up and they both stared at each other for a long time, communicating without words.

"Uhm, hello," said Marlowe. "Anyone care to fill me in?"

"Mr. Fenwick is a werewolf," said Sean.

"That judge guy from the ministry?" asked Marlowe.

"Yeah, he wears this pin. Says R.W.W. on it. And according to this book, that means 'Registered Werewolf.'"

"Sick," Marlowe grinned.

"No it's awful," said Evelyn. "I wonder how long..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," said Sean. "If he's lived with it most of his life or..."

"It must have been recent," Evelyn mused. "He's so high up in the ministry and it's a recent change that they can keep a job at all."

"Yeah, maybe," Sean agreed.

"Well, I think it's cool. He could take out anyone he wanted," said Marlowe sagely.

Evelyn gave him a dirty look, as though he were being insensitive and brash at someone's death bed. "Werewolves don't get to choose who they attack," she said, putting on a haughty tone. "It's—"

"God, I know, I wasn't serious. Who cares if he's a werewolf anyway?" said Marlowe. He sat back with a huff, pouting, and mumbled something about "can't take a joke," and "Caiti would have laughed." Sean slid his arm back around Evelyn, and they settled back together. Evelyn wasn't sure why she was so affected by this information. It wasn't as though Mr. Fenwick's condition was really threatening their everyday lives at all. And anyway, they didn't know him well enough to feel genuinely sorry for him. But it bothered her all the same.

"That explains," Sean said, "why he sometimes looks so thin and sickly, doesn't it? It must have been near a full moon."

They continued to discuss their new discovery for a while, Marlowe making a pointed effort not to contribute, but after a few minutes, Sean checked his watch. "We've got patrol," he said. They packed up their bags, said goodbye to a still annoyed Marlowe, and headed out.

As usual, they found the patrol to be dull and uneventful, and so, fell back to their preferred pastime of sitting against the wall in one of the deserted corridors until they were able to go back to Ravenclaw tower and their beds. Before long, Sean and Evelyn had exhausted all angles of conversation regarding their new development and they fell into a silence.

It was the first time he and Evelyn had been completely alone since the day he'd asked her to the ball. That was the thing about Hogwarts – there was always someone around. He couldn't help but notice Evelyn shifting uncomfortably beside him. She kept combing her fingers through long sections of brilliant red hair and glancing around the hallway like she waiting for something to happen and wasn't sure in which corner it would come from.

They both glanced at each other at the same moment and made eye contact accidentally. Evelyn looked away, but looked back again almost as soon. This time her gaze lingered. She dropped her hand from her hair and faced front again, frowning at the stone wall ahead of them.

"Sean," she said.

"Yes."

"We kissed."

Sean's cheeks felt hot. "Yes," he said again. His mouth had gone very dry.

When Evelyn spoke again her voice was very small. "Can we try it again?"

"Yeah," said Sean, too eager. "I mean, yeah... I'd like to..." They turned to each other.

"Uhm," said Sean. Why was this so hard? He had already done it, but still, this felt like the first time. He tried to clear his throat without making much to do about it. His mouth was so very dry.

Evelyn scooted forward a little more, her teeth grazing her lower lip. Sean felt a little jolt deep in his belly. Did girls know what that did to boys? He put his hand on her shoulder, leaning in towards her. They both tilted their heads the same way. Evelyn laughed nervously, and they both tried to switch at the same time. Sean's cheeks were on fire. He felt so uncomfortable, so out of his element.

The third time, they sort of bumped noses, and Evelyn pulled all the way back, very quickly and sat with her back pressed hard against the wall. Slowly, Sean withdrew.

"This is weird," she murmured.

Sean nodded a little bit. His stomach would not stop flipping around and it was driving him mad. His breaths came in short; he felt lightheaded and out of control.

His eyes slid over without turning his chin. Evelyn was taking deep breaths, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes stared unblinking at the place where the floor met the wall. Some of the portraits were watching them with curiosity, whispering to their companions. Sean gritted his teeth, filling himself up with as much determination as he could muster.

This was not weird. This should not be weird. Nearly seven years he had been pining after the same girl, so close to him, and yet never in the way he wanted. And she was sitting right next to him. She had actually _asked _him to kiss her.

And he had already done it once.

Planting one hand on the floor, he spiraled around, and kissed her, before he could talk himself out of it again.

He felt Evelyn smile a teeny bit into his lips as she kissed him back. It was not long. He broke apart from her, his breath so short with nerves he was sure if he had _not_ broken it, he would have passed out. They sat back against the wall, shoulders pressed together. Evelyn worked her fingers into his. He looked down at her hand in his, pale white skin, perfectly clear and smooth except for a few small birthmarks, darker than the freckles over her nose, which were almost not there at all. It was funny how this, holding hands, felt so much better to him.

Snogging, Sean thought, was not all it was cracked up to be. But he still wanted to try it again.

At seven thirty, Caiti knocked on Professor Pym's office door. "Come in," said her professor from the other side, and Caiti opened the door.

Inside, Professor Pym was sitting at her desk, long dark hair loose and tumbling over her shoulder. She was what Caiti would call "almost young," meaning, she was not yet old, but she had wrinkles. "Evening," said Professor Pym, pleasantly. She finished writing something and then shut the book she'd been making a note in and looked up at Caiti with piercing blue eyes and folded her hands on the desk.

"Hi," said Caiti. She rolled her lips together.

"Shall we get started then?"

Caiti couldn't hide her grin. "Yes."

She sat down opposite her professor and listened.

"Now, first of all, I want you to be aware that your first attempt will likely be a mess, even with my help. This is not an easy potion. But I think learning it could be a huge step for your career, not just as boasting rights, but in a practical sense. There is high need of skilled potioneers capable of brewing this particular potion at the moment, and there's a specific initiative to make it consistently available to all werewolves. There's been a lot more trouble getting things started than the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures anticipated, but they've got a plan to get things rolling in the next two years or so. Which would, of course, be ideal timing for you. It'd be a great job, right out of graduation. Plenty of benefits and good pay. But more importantly, they won't be expecting anyone your age to be able to brew it – but of course, they don't know you. It'll put your name on the map right away, get you in with the right people, and soon they'll be all sorts of opportunities."

Caiti's eyes were alight. Her parents had always worried that there weren't enough jobs in potion-making. She wasn't particularly interested in being a healer, and her dad didn't think there was much point to pursuing potions professionally unless she wanted to work in medicine.

Caiti had tried to explain to them on multiple occasions all the things that could be done, but they never seemed quite convinced that she would be able to make such things happen. They supported her, of course, but they were cautionary. They didn't want her to be deluded into doing something she wouldn't be successful at.

But this was something palpable. This was something that had a clear path forward, something specific and tangible that she could dream about and work towards, and also something that could propel her further.

"This is something you're interested in?" Professor Pym confirmed.

"Yes," said Caiti at once. She had not realized it while she listened, but she was gripping the edge of her chair so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

"Well then let's get started," said Professor Pym. And together, they began to discuss the best ways of preparing each of the ingredients and the importance of being exact in measurements.

At ten o'clock, Sean and Evelyn had not yet returned from their patrol. Marlowe thought they had been gone an unusually long time. He wondered if there had been an incident they had had to stay and help deal with.

Caiti beat them back, perching herself on the arm of Marlowe's chair. "Whatcha doin?" she asked, peering over his shoulder at the homework laid out on his lap.

Marlowe looked up at her. She looked exhausted, but also, for some reason he could not explain, she was absolutely beaming. He doubted this had to do with her interest in what homework he was working on.

"Charms," he said, setting down his quill and frowning at her. "What's got you so happy?"

Caiti just shrugged. "Where are the others?"

"Prefect duties," he said, darkly. "Those two are becoming unbearable." He had only managed to make significant progress on his work after they – and their embarrassing PDA – had left the room.

"That's because they kissed," said Caiti simply.

"What?!" said Marlowe gripping the arm of the chair and swiveling to look back at her. "Sean didn't tell me that."

"Well it was a bit of an accident, according to Evelyn," Caiti conceded. "But anyway, it was just the once. She said he never tried to again and they haven't talked about it. That's why she told me. Wanted to know what to do."

"And what did you tell her?" Marlowe asked, incredulous. He could not believe that Sean, his _best_ friend, had not thought to tell Marlowe that he'd gotten it on with the girl he'd been obsessing over for years.

"Told her that Sean is too thick to realize she wants him to kiss her again so she'd better just tell him or do it herself."

Marlowe laughed. "That's bad advice."

Caiti looked affronted.

"I only mean," said Marlowe, grinning, "that if he's anything like his sister, he'll have an answer ready and it's 'no.'"

Caiti rolled her eyes at him.

She glanced at him and he got the feeling she was expecting him to go on, to make his usual request for a kiss, especially since this meant that he had won the bet he had made with her back in October. But he kept quiet. He had not forgotten what Sean had suggested the night he had asked for advice about the ball, that perhaps Caiti was only waiting for a real date before she said yes.

It was only after he was in bed that night that he realized Caiti had given him the information herself, knowing full well what Marlowe might take it to mean, and that perhaps this was Caiti's own shy way of suggesting that if he asked again, there might be some small chance that this time, finally, she would not say no.

"So," said Marlowe the next morning. "Tell me, supposed best friend, why I had to find out through your sister that you and a girl who goes by the name of Evelyn O'Sullivan, if I'm not mistaken, kissed."

Sean looked bashful. "Uh," he said.

"That's what I thought. No good answer. Details, stat." Marlowe clapped his hands twice, and Sean relaxed. It was clear that Marlowe was only joking around.

Though he wasn't sure how Caiti knew, either. He would have to ask later.

"Well, I uhm... accidentally kissed her right after I asked her to go to the ball with me."

"And how was it?" asked Marlowe, fighting back his laughter. He wasn't quite sure how anyone could accidentally snog someone, unless they tripped in a very, very unlucky set of circumstances. Or very lucky, depending on how you looked at it.

"Well... it wasn't," said Sean, frowning. "It was only for a second. And then we didn't talk about it for a few weeks."

Marlowe shook his head, patting Sean on the back in mock seriousness. It was only for the sake of his own impressive comedic abilities that he was able to keep a straight face as he said, in a solemn tone, "My friend, you are, without a doubt, the least romantic person I have ever met."

"Well we kissed again, last night," Sean argued, glaring at him.

"Ah," said Marlowe in the manner of a detective gathering important clues. "Now this I didn't know. Tell me more."

"I don't know. She brought it up and then it was... really awkward and weird, and we kind of stopped trying. And then I just did it. And it was... it was alright."

"Just alright?" Marlowe frowned. "What, she's no good?"

"No it's not that," Sean said.

"I don't know. It's just..." He felt strange saying it out loud. "I don't know. People talk about it so much, you know? And it's not really that great. Or not yet anyway. It's just sort of weird. Like why do we do that?" He'd gotten a little desperate as he spoke. What if he was the problem? What if he sucked at snogging? What if Evelyn never wanted to kiss him again?

"You gotta practice," said Marlowe. "Luckily you've got someone to practice with. You two like routine, don't you? You're both so organized. Just make it feel like your normal. I mean, neither of you really have much experience do you? Can't expect it to be like Filibuster's Fireworks the first time around."

They headed downstairs to meet the girls for breakfast. Evelyn was already there, and her face turned slightly pink when she saw Sean. He glanced at Marlowe who nodded encouragingly, and then pecked her on the mouth. Evelyn looked surprised, but she smiled a little bit. "Good morning," she said quietly.

Marlowe raised his eyebrows at Sean who shook his head jerkily. Marlowe shrugged as if to say "suit yourself." A girl with pale skin and dark red lipstick went stomping past them – Amelia – but Sean didn't care.

A few minutes later, Caiti arrived downstairs, yawning widely with her hair a little disheveled, and they all headed on their way. As they walked, Sean spotted Marlowe fixing Caiti's favorite blue bow which had gotten caught underneath the rest of her hair.


	18. The Yule Ball

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Eighteen. The Yule Ball.

Christmas morning arrived just as it should, with a fresh blanket of snow and new flakes still falling softly past the tall windows of Ravenclaw tower and to the ground, so far below. The common room had never been so packed on Christmas. Nearly everyone had stayed for the holidays this year. Caiti had thought she would feel homesick, but so far, she was truly enjoying herself.

There was a towering Christmas tree by the big windows, adorned in Ravenclaw colors and topped with an eagle that flapped its wings from time to time, showering the tree and anyone standing below it in silver glitter. A ring of the glitter surrounded the ground around the tree in place of the traditional train track. Between the brilliant decorations and her growing excitement for the ball that evening, Caiti was perfectly happy to be where she was, even if it wasn't home.

She Evelyn, Marlowe, and Sean had all packaged their presents inside their quilts and carried them down Father Christmas-style over their shoulders. Now they sat around the fireplace, preparing to open the parcles. No one had changed out of pajamas yet. Caiti's hair was still tied up in last night's braid, now fuzzy on top and with many escaped bits of hair. She tucked her feet inside the legs of her pajama pants, which were too long, and sat with her knees up to her chest, and her chin on her knees, smiling contentedly as the others got themselves situated.

She kept stealing glances at Marlowe. She did not think she had ever seen him with bedhead before. He positioned himself next to her, just close enough that if she moved to sit cross-legged, their knees would be touching.

"Happy Christmas," she said, smiling at him.

Marlowe nodded once. "You too," then he added. "Open mine first so it won't be a letdown."

Caiti laughed. "It won't be. You didn't need to get me anything." But she let her knees fall open to sit cross-legged anyhow (purposely not shifting aside) and rifled through her little pile of presents to find the one from Marlowe. It was wrapped in blue paper, and Caiti smiled to herself when she noticed the excessive amount of Spell-o-tape he had used to secure it. Much, much more than was strictly necessary.

Caiti forced her way through the tape, glancing at him with a sly grin. "Am I not meant to get in?" she asked.

Marlowe grinned sheepishly. "I suck at wrapping presents," he said.

Inside was a book. Caiti had opened it to the back cover so she flipped it around. The title read _The Properties of Potion-Making for Inventors: Create Brand New Potions from Scratch._

"This is so cool," she said, skimming the contents. "Thanks, Marlowe!" The book had chapters dedicated to choosing the right ingredients and safe ways to test new potions and all sorts of things.

While she continued to peruse the book, Sean began to open his present from Caiti. He burst out laughing and she looked up. "I hate you," he said, grinning at her. In his lap was a stuffed Mackled Malaclaw, dressed in a baby bonnet which Caiti had shrunk to fit herself.

Caiti put up both hands, flexed at the wrist, and shrugged. "There's something else in there," she said. Sean frowned and reached back inside the gift bag. When his hand reemerged, he was holding a small box. The something inside rattled as he brought it closer to his face to read it. "I really hate you," he said, chucking it at her. The little box hit Caiti in the shoulder, bounced off her knee, and then rolled twice from edge to edge. "Ow," Caiti laughed, clapping her hand to her shoulder.

She had expected Sean's reaction. They always got each other joke gifts. He was grinning and shaking his head.

Until he saw that Marlowe had snatched the box and was now staring at it with glee. "Love-Gloss," he read. Then he turned to Caiti and they both roared with laughter. Evelyn looked slightly uncomfortable, but was smiling a little anyway. "Man," said Marlowe. "I didn't know you had that in you, Caiti. Good thinking."

"I don't need that crap," said Sean, with a glance at Evelyn. "I already have a girlfriend." Her cheeks went pink. Caiti got the impression that no official conversation had ever taken place, though she was sure Evelyn had assumed this was the case anyhow. They certainly acted like a couple. Even more now than they already had.

Marlowe tossed the box back to Sean, still grinning.

In the end, Caiti sat amid her unwrapped packages, a pile of ripped up paper behind her. On her lap was a box of chocolate frogs and a selection of expensive potion ingredients from her parents. A package of her favorite self-inking quills in all different colors sat by her feet. Evelyn was looking especially cozy wrapped up first in the purple, fuzzy blanket Sean had given her, and second under his arm. The Mackled Malaclaw sat in his lap.

Only Marlowe had anything left to open – Caiti's present. He wore the hat Sean had given him now, emblazoned with the symbol of the Ballycastle Bats. ("Man, I'd better not screw it up, now," he'd said, just before he jammed it on his head.)

"Saved the best for last," said Marlowe, holding up the package which was roughly the size of a tissue box. Caiti had wrapped it in green, Marlowe's favorite color.

"Can't disagree with you," said Caiti knowingly. She could not stop smiling prematurely. She had been looking forward to giving this to him for _months. _It had needed to brew that long, after all. "Tell your mom I'm sorry for showing her up."

Marlowe laughed and started to peel away the paper. He pulled the lid off the box inside and saw eight little bottles, lined up in two rows. He pulled one out and immediately his eyes went wide.

"This isn't..." he said, peering at the gold liquid. "It _is. _Caiti. You made this?"

She nodded, beaming, and hugged herself just for something to do with her hands. "Liquid luck," she said.

_"Wow," _he breathed, turning the little bottle around. "Eight perfect days. Wait a second-"

Caiti's smile faltered just a little.

"Was this what you wouldn't let me see that day when I had to stay late in potions and you helped me?"

"Oh," said Caiti brightening up again. "Yeah it was. I forgot about that."

After placing the bottle back inside gingerly, Marlowe placed one hand on her knee, using it as leverage to twist around and give her a one armed hug. "You're amazing," he said, and then he did something he had never done before, and he kissed her on the cheek. Caiti blushed so much she had to hide her face in her lap. It did not help that Marlowe had left his hand on her knee.

"Sorry mine sucked," he said, frowning.

"It didn't!" Caiti said, peeking up again.

"It did," he argued. "But you're better present is coming tonight when I'm the best date ever."

Caiti grabbed a pillow off the nearest chair and hit Marlowe over the head with it. By the heat in her face, she knew her cheeks were still flushed.

The rest of the morning passed pleasantly. After a delicious Christmas brunch of warm, cinnamon-y French toast and egg casserole, they spent a few hours playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess (Evelyn destroyed everyone, as usual) in the common room before the girls announced that they needed to go and get ready

"What do they need three hours for?" asked Marlowe in alarm as they trekked up the stairs, giggling.

At six forty five, Sean and Marlowe tromped down to the common room again. Marlowe had done his best to slick his hair back, something he had not tried to do in years, and had even put on cologne. He felt jittery and nervous. He could not figure out whether Caiti thought this was a real date or not.

He knew what _he_ thought it was.

Sean perched himself on the arm of a chair facing the girl's dormitory and drummed his fingers on his knees. Marlowe could not sit still. He was too antsy.

Finally, he heard Evelyn's voice on the stairs. She appeared first, dressed in emerald green robes. Her hair was done up in an elegant twist with a few little pieces falling down around her face.

Next to him, Marlowe heard Sean breathe, "Wow," and he stood up. But Caiti had just come around the curve of the spiral staircase. She paused when she saw Marlowe, her hand on the wall and her lips slightly parted. He thought she looked nervous too, which actually made him feel much better.

She looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was pinned back on one side, loose, glossy waves falling over her shoulders. She wore pale blue robes, almost silver, and they were so fine and silky they almost looked like water when she moved. Evelyn had already reached Sean by the time Caiti started moving again, but Marlowe had no idea what they were doing. Some sort of a blank had formed in his mind. When Caiti reached him, he toppled over backwards.

She jumped back in alarm, but Marlowe grinned stupidly and sat up on his elbows. "You look stunning," he said. "Get it? _Stunn_ing."

Caiti shook her head, laughing without sound. "Weak," she said. She offered him a hand and helped him up.

"Yeah, that was pretty bad," said Marlowe honestly. "I'm off my game." He reached behind him to the end table where he had placed the corsage his mom insisted he order. Caiti frowned, still smiling, when he held it out to her. "My mom said it's a muggle thing," he explained.

"Thank you," said Caiti, as he helped her put it on her wrist. Her voice was small.

Slipping his hand into hers, they started to head out, a short ways behind Sean and Evelyn. Caiti's hand felt smooth and small in his. "For the record," he said quietly, once he was sure Sean was far enough away, "I meant it."

Caiti gave him a curious look.

"You're beautiful," said Marlowe, not quite managing to look at her.

"You don't look too bad yourself," said Caiti easily.

Her tone was the same good-natured sarcasm she usually used, but Marlowe knew it was genuine. This was not the first time he had seen Caiti hide compliments behind an air of inconsequence when she felt shy.

She gave his hand a little squeeze.

The great hall was unrecognizable. The usual night sky was hardly visible beneath so many gold, glittering stars hovering above them. They cast the whole room in a bright, joyful glow. The table cloths looked white from far away, but as Sean approached, he saw they were woven with bits of gold as well. A tree, three times as large as the one in Ravenclaw tower, had been dressed in golden ribbons and stars like the ones floating overhead. Even the tableware was a brilliant, pure gold. Sean thought he would feel guilty eating from it.

He and Evelyn sat directly across the table from Mr. Fenwick. The little pin glinted on his lapel, as always. Evelyn spotted it and made eye contact with Sean. Now that he knew, he found he could not un-know it. He didn't want to, but he saw Mr. Fenwick differently. He looked healthier than he had seen him yet, but still, Sean found he was a little wary of him.

"Ah, Mr. O'Connell," he said, when Sean had sat down at the round table. "Don't believe I was able to speak to you after the first task. Brilliant work. Really spectacular." Sean had never seen him so jovial. In fact, he had always found Mr. Fenwick to be a little stern, though not unkind. His face looked a little red. Sean wondered if he had begun drinking before the feast had begun. This, again, struck him as odd.

"Thanks," he said, glancing at Evelyn again.

"And this must be your date. Why don't you introduce us, son?"

"Oh," said Sean. "This is Evelyn O'Sullivan." Mr. Fenwick was still staring at the two of them expectantly. "My girlfriend."

"Wonderful," he said. "Lovely girl."

"Thank you," said Evelyn, graciously.

Not long after, Oscar sat down with his date - a Slytherin girl Sean knew only by sight and name - and Mr. Fenwick was distracted.

"What's up with him?" Sean muttered.

Evelyn shook her head. "No idea."

When their plates suddenly appeared full of food, Sean found he no longer cared. There were roasted potatoes and a large Christmas ham, asparagus, and dark rolls, still warm. Their glasses had been filled with champagne as well. Professor Osset, seated three seats over from Sean's right, lifted his glass and spoke to the table at large. "To our three champions, without whose participation and commitment to the tournament, this competition would not be possible," he said. They all raised their glasses, clinking with those nearest them, and drank. It felt pleasant on Sean's tongue, warming him all the way through.

Evelyn was blinking very quickly when she set her glass down. She placed one hand on her chest. "I've never had that before," she said.

"Good? Bad?"

"Good, I think," she said, laughing. Sean found it difficult not to stare at her.

No one talked much while they ate. The house elves had outdone themselves this time. Sean had never had a better meal at Hogwarts. As everyone began to slow down, stomach's over-full, talk broke out again surrounding the second task.

"I'm sure you 'ave all been preparing," Madame Maxime was saying, smiling around at the three champions. Sean felt his stomach turn over with guilt. He had not given the tournament a second's thought since the day of the first task, and now he had little more than a month to prepare. Oscar was going on and on about how much time he had spent preparing and the sacrifices necessary to do well in this tournament, which only made Sean feel worse. He had, after all, put a lot more focus on his love life in the past month than on the second task, or even his school work.

"What's wrong?" Evelyn said, under her breath. He turned to her and she was looking up at him through her eyelashes, her bright eyes fixed on him.

"Nothing," he said, but then, thinking better, "I'll tell you later."

"And of course, Mr. O'Connell has the advantage," said Mr. Fenwick loudly. "Should be exciting to see which item you'll choose. I know if it were me I'd-" but Mr. Catchlove shushed him quickly.

"Don't go giving away the secrets of the task, now Robert," he said patting him on the arm in a patronizing manner.

"Ah, of course," said Mr. Fenwick, and he downed the rest of his fourth glass of champagne. The cup had been refilling itself all evening.

"No doubt, you have been giving considerable thought to the matter, though," said Mr. Catchlove to Sean with a kind smile.

"Er," said Sean. "Yeah. I mean, it's all guessing though, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course, of course," said Mr. Catchlove, smiling. "All guesswork. But I don't doubt you'll be able to prepare just as well. You've been given much more than the last time around and you managed perfectly well then. I can't pretend I wouldn't _love _a Hogwarts victory."

Eline scowled. Sean felt embarrassed. He wished they had not had to sit in this arrangement. He got on with Oscar well enough, though he found him rather pompous, but neither champion was really someone he was interested in a genuine friendship with. And if he was being honest with himself, the only person he really wanted to talk to tonight was Evelyn.

He had not told her, yet, how pretty she looked and it was eating away at him almost as much as how unprepared he was for the task. Marlowe was right. He sucked at this. He was not charming or romantic. He did not know how to flatter a girl. And he had no idea how to dance with one, which he was meant to do in a matter of minutes in front of the entire school.

When the plates cleared, Sean could not decide if it had happened too soon, or not soon enough. Professor Osset stood and made a few remarks about the occasion and then, before Sean felt prepared at all, he was introducing the champions for the first dance of the evening. Oscar stood quickly and helped his date from her chair, kissing her hand. Eline's date, another Durmstrang boy, tried to mimic this, but she had stood before he could manage.

Everyone began to stand as the champions and their partners headed for the center of the room. The tables vanished, or otherwise were relocated to the edges of the space, making more room for the dancers. Sean heard a small orchestra tuning up to his right.

Evelyn took his hand. "I'll lead," she said quietly, smiling.

Sean laughed a high little laugh, squeezing her hand a little tighter. His palms felt sweaty, and he hoped she hadn't noticed. They followed the other champions out to the dance floor. Leaving their hands clasped, Evelyn placed her free hand on his shoulder. Sean's hand moved to her waist. She smiled at him again. There were so many people. So many pairs of eyes all around the dance floor. "Don't worry," Evelyn whispered. "Just you and me."

Then the orchestra began to play and Evelyn took charge, leading him through a simple dance. He was so focused on following her direction, and on not looking up at any of the faces watching him that he barely noticed other people joining in after a minute or so. Not until the dance floor was about half full did he finally begin to relax. "Not so bad, was it?" she said, sliding her thumb back and forth over the place where his collarbone met his shoulder.

"You look nice," Sean blurted out. "I mean, no... I mean... you look..." His cheeks felt hot again. He could not come up with the right words.

But Evelyn smiled, pulled her hand out of his, slid both arms around his neck, and clasped her fingers. "Thanks," she said, looking up at him. Sean's other hand hovered for a few seconds in the air, unsure what to do, but finally, he slid both arms around her lower back and pulled her closer to him so that they were in a sort of odd rotating hug. Evelyn pressed her cheek into his chest, giving him a little squeeze.

"You look really, really, really pretty," Sean managed finally. Evelyn giggled and he loved the feeling of the little shake in her spine under his hands.

The orchestra finished playing, and Ricky and the Houselves, the band that had been hired to perform for the remainder of the evening, took their places on the stage that had been set up where the faculty table usually stood. "Alright, Caiti," said Marlowe, grinning. "Get ready."

Caiti had not stopped smiling all night, whether at something funny Marlowe had said or at Sean's expense (watching him stumble his way through the dancing had been a riot). Her cheeks hurt already.

She took a look at the stage now and her jaw dropped open comically. "Wait, I didn't realize the band was _actually _houselves," she said. Marlowe turned to look too. Sure enough, one man – presumably Ricky – stood at center stage, but the rest of the band members were houselves, all wrinkly and wearing dirty old pillowcases as clothes. One stood atop one of the golden chairs that had sat around the tables in order to reach the keyboard, and another had stacked six or seven books on top of his own chair to reach the drum kit. What really got Caiti, however, were the two in front holding a bass and a guitar, each about three times the size of the elf. The instruments actually dragged on the ground.

She and Marlowe looked at each other and burst out laughing. They had not yet subsided when the band began to play a popular radio song called "Ghouls and Ghosts."

"Oh I love this one!" said Caiti.

"Well come on," shouted Marlowe over the music. They had joined in near the end of the champions dance and were situated on the edge of the dance floor, but now Marlowe grabbed Caiti's hand and pulled her to the center of the dance floor, right in the thick of everything.

Marlowe was actually a fantastic dancer. He was surprisingly cool, and Caiti was perfectly happy to bop around awkwardly at his side. She had no fear of making a complete fool of herself in front of him. She only lasted the one song in her heels before she kicked them off and performed a banishing spell on them. They flew over to the corner of the great hall, knocking many people on their way. No one minded. Everyone was being knocked around by their neighbor's elbows as it was.

Caiti and Marlowe ended up with quite a large circle of space around them, however, due in equal parts to Marlowe's erratic dancing and Caiti's general klutziness. He grabbed both her hands, pulling and pushing opposite arms forward and back so that they twisted their hips and feet. Caiti let her hair swing around her shoulders, brown eyes alight, and half laughing all the time.

He let go of one of her hands. "Twirl," he said, grinning. Caiti wasn't even sure which direction she was meant to go in but she made it up, spinning around under his arm. She almost tripped over her own foot but Marlowe caught her and made it a part of their silly little dance. He dipped her back and she let out a squeak, her eyes going wide and round.

After about a half an hour, the band announced that they would be playing one more song before taking a short break.

"We're going to slow things down, a little, play an old classic," said Ricky in a husky voice. "This one's called 'Charmed.'"

"Oh, I _love_ this one," said Caiti again, taking hold of Marlowe's hands, only this time it was a different sort of love. 'Charmed' was one of those songs everyone knew. It had been around forever, a popular first dance song at weddings, everyone's mother's favorite. Marlowe slipped his arms around her and Caiti put her own around his shoulders. It was a bit of a stretch for her to reach all the way around his neck, and Marlowe couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Shut up," said Caiti. This only made Marlowe laugh more.

"This is fun," he said after a minute.

Caiti pressed her lips tightly together, smiled, and nodded once. "I'm glad I'm here with you," she said.

But Marlowe was looking up for some reason, frowning. Caiti looked up too, recognizing what Marlowe had been staring at just as he looked back at her with a triumphant smile. His dark eyes were glowing as brightly as the star strewn ceiling and the dimple in his right cheek was more prominent than ever. "Mistletoe," he said with finality. Vines were spiraling down from the ceiling all over the dance floor, ending in clusters of perfectly shaped green leaves and red berries. "You _have _to kiss me now. Come on."

"Yeah. Freaking. Right," said Caiti. But then she pushed down on his shoulders, stood on her highest tiptoes, and kissed him full on the mouth. If Marlowe had not seen it coming and met her halfway, she would not have been able to reach properly. He pulled her closer, one hand sliding up to rest between her shoulder blades. He nearly lifted her off the floor. They broke apart just as the song was wrapping up. Caiti's cheeks felt warm, but there was a bright smile on her face. Into the relative quiet, Marlowe punched one fist in the air and shouted "Everyone! I kissed Caiti O'Connell!"

If Caiti had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to now. She hid her face in his arm quickly as laughter and applause broke out all over the room. Marlowe lifted her face back up to look at him. He placed one hand on her cheek and Caiti felt the butterflies stirring up in stomach in a way they had not had time to do before. This time when he kissed her, it was much softer, much sweeter. All around them, people were moving off the dance floor to get drinks or take a rest while the band was on their break, but they stayed right where they were.

"Damn, Caiti," said Marlowe finally. "Where'd you learn to kiss like that?"

Caiti let out one high laugh of shock and embarrassment before Marlowe added, "On second thought, I don't want to know. Worth the wait though."

He looped his arm over her shoulders as they headed off the dance floor to get drinks. Caiti crossed one arm over her stomach and pressed the loosely closed hand of her other arm to her mouth to hide her smile.

They found Sean and Evelyn sitting at one of the tables that had been lined up along the wall and Marlowe pulled up a chair for her. "I'll grab drinks," he said. Sean apparently could not make eye contact with Caiti, but Evelyn beamed at her and mouthed "Happy?"

Caiti bit her lip and nodded. Her whole body was buzzing. It wasn't just the kiss that had her worked up. It was the whole evening. Marlowe was so much _fun. _He wanted to dance with her and he didn't mind doing stupid things in front of everyone just to make her laugh. There had not been a dull moment in their conversation at dinner, either.

Evelyn gave Caiti's arm a squeeze. "We'll talk later," she whispered. Caiti could only nod again. Marlowe returned a minute later with two glasses of the punch Sean and Evelyn were already sipping on. He handed one to Caiti and sat down next to her with his arm around the back of her chair.

"Thank you," she said. His fingers toyed with the end of her hair.

"Having fun?" Marlowe asked the others.

Sean was treating Marlowe the same way he was Caiti. That is to say, he wasn't. He seemed suddenly incapable of seeing them or hearing anything they said.

"We are," said Evelyn happily. She reached over for Sean's hand, threading their fingers together. He finally looked at them.

"Seems like you are too," he said. Caiti had never seen him looking more uncomfortable.

"Oh, get over it, Sean," said Caiti. "I like him, okay? He's still your best friend."

"Excuse me," snapped Sean, "if I'm not thrilled to have my best friend snogging my little sister in public and boasting about it."

Marlowe opened his mouth to retort, but Evelyn held up her hand. "Don't fight," she said. Her voice was calm. "They're happy. We're happy. It doesn't matter." Sean let out a heavy sigh through his nose and didn't speak again.

When the band returned, Marlowe stood, holding out his hand for Caiti. "Let's go dance," he said, and she smiled and let him help her up. Sean stood abruptly, grabbing Marlowe's arm.

"Come here a minute," he said. Marlowe glanced at Caiti, but she only shrugged and took another sip of her punch so he followed Sean a short ways away.

"Listen," Sean said once he was sure they were out of earshot. "I don't- I don't really care if you want to like... take her out and stuff. Just don't hurt her, okay? Theo messed her up. You didn't see what she was like this summer."

Marlowe was pretty certain he had seen more of what Caiti had been like that summer than Sean knew, but he didn't voice this opinion.

"I'm not Theo," said Marlowe. "I would never. And anyway, she broke up with him, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I know. Just... don't."

Marlowe thought there must be more coming, but Sean just gave him a hard look and headed back towards Evelyn. Marlowe followed behind, turning his smile back on when he reached Caiti.

"What was that about?" she asked as they walked away, arms locked.

"Don't worry about it," said Marlowe. "What I want to know is if you meant what you said. You like me?" He gave her a cheeky grin.

"Of course I meant it," she said. They had just reached the edge of the dance space which was already filling up again. She bumped him with her hip and he laughed, bumping her back. Caiti opened her mouth in mock shock. Marlowe grinned and pulled her into a tight hug, rocking side to side.

"Me too," he said. "It's been years since I was kidding."

Any thought of Sean's attitude was forgotten.

Back at the little table, Evelyn sat with her arms folded and one leg crossed over the other watching Caiti and Marlowe having fun. "Why don't we go dance, too?" she asked.

"Alright," said Sean, but he did not stand.

"What's up with you?" asked Evelyn. She was starting to get annoyed. He was making the night much less fun than it should have been, stirring up arguments, and letting them ruin his mood.

"Nothing," he said. His voice was short, a little defensive.

She turned towards him, sitting sideways in her chair. "Sean. You can't tell me you're actually surprised. What's really bothering you?"

"He just makes me feel like..." but he didn't finish his sentence. He was watching the two of them dancing, both jumping around madly with their arms in the air. He could see their mouths moving to the words of the song.

"Like what?" Evelyn prompted.

"Like I'm not good enough. He's so good at this stuff. At girls. I don't know what I'm doing."

Marlowe caught Caiti around the middle from behind and she doubled over laughing, pulling him down with her.

"I don't know what I'm doing either," said Evelyn, watching them with a small smile on her face.

Sean glanced at her and she turned, catching his gaze.

"I don't care what Marlowe does, okay? I don't want all that anyway."

"Yeah but he does _everything _right. And I didn't even know how to tell you I thought you looked pretty." He blushed again just saying it and turned away. "Which is always true by the way."

Evelyn smiled and looked down. "You're sweet," she said quietly. Sean did not speak again so she went on. "Look... all that stuff they're doing, the crazy dancing and stuff. I'm happy for them, because they're having fun how they have fun. But that's not me. That's not us. I don't want that. He's good for Caiti, but you shouldn't be jealous of him." she looked down again. "Marlowe's a good guy, but he's... he's brash, and a little insensitive, and he likes to be the center of attention too much. And anyway, he's not you."

Sean laughed a bit at her critique of Marlowe, which was a little cruel, but not inaccurate.

The song had just changed to one somewhere in between an up-tempo and a slow dance. "Come on," she said. "We're not spending all night worrying about them." She pulled him out to the dance floor which was in chaos. No one knew what to do to a song like this and lots of people had stopped moving altogether and were looking at their friends and dates in alarm. Evelyn didn't much care what the tempo was. She wrapped her arms his neck and Sean put his around her waist again, but she saw him looking over her shoulder at Caiti and Marlowe who had made their way to thick of things again.

"Hey," she said. He made eye contact with her, finally. "Just you and me, okay?"

Sean nodded and lowered his head so that it rested in her hair. She pressed herself right up close to him and felt his lips press into her hair an inch or so above her forehead, sending shivers all the way up her spine. She smiled and shut her eyes.

Sean and Evelyn walked up the spiral staircase to the boys dorm side by side. They were the first ones back to the common room.

"Can I just borrow your clothes?" she asked when they were standing in his room.

"Yeah," said Sean, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and his softest old t-shirt, a freebie from a Ministry of Magic Take Your Child To Work Day. It had been almost a dress on him when he had first gotten it. His father didn't even work for the ministry anymore. She removed her makeup in the bathroom sink and left a pile of pins she had pulled out of her hair on his bedside table before crawling under his covers. Sean shut off the lights and headed back to the bed. "Where are you?" he asked, laughing a little. His eyes had not yet adjusted. Evelyn held up a hand, groping blindly at the air for a second before she made contact with his arm.

"Right here," she said. He could hear her smile before his eyes were able to see it. He slid under the covers and laid on his side, facing her.

"So it didn't suck, right?" Sean asked.

Evelyn laughed much more loudly this time. "No, it didn't suck." Her voice rung in the silence and darkness of the room. She rolled onto her back, her hair fanning around her.

"Good," he said. He reached over, brushing a lock of hair off her face. He had not kissed her all night. There had been so many people around. "I still don't think I make a very good date."

"I think this is better anyway," said Evelyn.

"Me too," he said. He pushed up on his elbow and kissed her on the cheek and then, because he had seen something in her eyes, he finally gathered up enough courage to kiss her for real. It was still so hard every time, but he could feel it getting easier, more comfortable.

He laid back down, on his back now. They stared up the ceiling, shoulders pressed together. "Yeah that does get better," he said.

"What?" asked Evelyn laughing. But Sean just smiled and shook his head, making swishing noises on his pillow. She rolled onto her side and then her belly, looking down at him, and said, "Okay, then let's do that again." And she pressed her lips to his once more before settling herself down on his chest, curled up right next to him. "Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight," said Sean, though he knew he would not be able to sleep for a long time.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, the fear he had felt at dinner regarding the second task perked up again in the dark, but he pushed it aside. He could worry about that tomorrow.

Contrary to their friends, Caiti and Marlowe were among the very last to return to the common room that night. It was past one in the morning by the time the final song had been played. Caiti collected her shoes from the corner on their way out and carried them by the straps on one finger. Marlowe wrapped his arm around her shoulders and Caiti put her own around his waist. She yawned deeply. She was going to be exhausted tomorrow.

Although it was late, their eyes heavy and their bodies aching, and although Caiti could not wait to be lying comfortably in her bed, to be off her feet, they took their time walking up. Caiti had not done much exploring of the castle at night. This was the latest she had ever been out. It was peaceful and so, so quiet, if a little drafty. She snuggled herself a little closer to Marlowe and yawned again. She could not stop.

Neither of them said anything the whole way through the halls, the only sound that of Marlowe's shoes and Caiti's bare feet padding along the stone floors, and sometimes the creaks of sleeping suits of armor as their empty helmets nodded forward, or the snores of the portraits on the walls.

When they reached Ravenclaw tower, the bronze knocker was so tired that the only question she managed to come up with was "How was the ball?"

"Wonderful," said Caiti. She yawned again as the door swung open.

The common room was deserted. Everyone else was in bed already. Caiti was so ready to sleep, but still she lingered outside the steps up to her room. She peeked up at Marlowe who had stopped there with her. Neither of them knew quite what to say. Finally, Caiti hugged him, right around the middle, and she felt his arms close around her upper back. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don't think anyone else could have had that much fun."

Marlowe laughed through his yawn. "It's easy when you get to go with your best friend," he said. He smoothed one hand over her hair and then, in the familiar sly tone he adopted in these many instances, he said "So I have to ask. For old time's sake... do I get to kiss you goodnight?"

Caiti tipped her head back to look at him and her smile said yes for her.

Just out of sight, Caiti held in a squeal and spun around. A night like this seemed impossible, too wonderful to be real.

She crept up the stairs and found her pajamas before she tiptoed into the bathroom to remove her makeup, now mostly melted off with sweat anyway. Her eyeshadow had caked into the creases of her eyelids. She stared in the mirror at herself for a while after she had scrubbed her face clean. Did she look differently now? She certainly felt different.

She had forgotten what this felt like, the beginning of something, before it became comfortable. She had forgotten the agonizing butterflies that never go away and the way it became difficult to eat and sleep and think about anything other than that one person who was causing all the problems in the first place. She had forgotten the way her stomach squeezed itself whenever she remembered the feeling of his hands on her back, or on her cheek, or in her hair.

And they had kissed.

She had not known, when she met him that night, that she was going to do it. But in that moment it had felt so right. She couldn't help herself. She let out a little squeak of delight, one hand covering her mouth. She dragged the other one through her hair, staring unfocused at the floor with a wide, goofy grin. It was not the grimy bathroom tiles she saw, but Marlowe's face as he had said goodnight.

When she finally crawled into bed, she found that she was wide awake again, reliving every detail, every conversation, every little thing that had made her smile.


	19. The Stolen Prophet

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Nineteen. The Stolen Prophet

Sean wolfed down his lunch at top speed on the first day of the new term. He was determined to spend a few solid minutes in the library preparing for the second task. He and Evelyn had spent the remainder of break pouring through books again, searching for any spell that might be useful, any tidbit that could save his life, or at least spare him a few seconds of panic. The dread had not truly begun to sink in until that morning, however. He had written the date for the first time since break had begun a few weeks previously, scratching it down in neat numerals on the top of his notes in that morning's lesson: 12 January. The month was near half gone already.

And the task was the first weekend of February.

Worst of all was that Quidditch practices started again the next week, and he knew Marlowe would not let him skip out.

In under five minutes, Sean was slinging his bag over his shoulder again. "Are you coming, Ev?" he asked, clambering over the bench.

She looked up startled. She'd only just finished cutting her chicken. "I-"

"Never mind," he said. "It's fine. I'll see you later." He strode off, checking his watch. He could get a good twenty minutes in if he walked fast. The library was not far from his next lesson. He had just finished rereading _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and was hoping to peruse a few volumes with more in depth information of the native creatures of each school's area of Europe. This had been Evelyn's brilliant idea, apparently based on something she had overheard Mr. Fenwick let slip at the ball about "national representation" and "recognizing our differences as our strengths."

Back at the Ravenclaw table, Caiti watched Sean go, her brow creased and her chin tucked back. She picked up the salt shaker and sprinkled some on her green beans. "You know, you don't have to help him all the time. He's the one who was an idiot and entered the tournament in the first place," she said to Evelyn.

"Hey!" said Marlowe, shoving her playfully. Caiti ignored him.

"I mean it. You're his best friend and you're his girlfriend, but you are not his tutor."

"I know, I know," Evelyn sighed, stabbing her chicken. "I just want to support him."

"And you do. And he knows that. Just don't forget you have things to do of your own. He may not have to take exams at the end of the year, but you do." Caiti snatched a crisp of Marlowe's plate. (She felt better pretending she wasn't eating them. If they were not actually on _her _plate, it didn't count.)

He swatted her hand away and said, "Get your own."

"He's taking them anyway," Evelyn said to Caiti. "He thinks N.E.W.T.'s are too important to skip. And it makes sense. I mean, eventually, employers will care more what subjects he passed than whether or not he was a Triwizard Champion, though that's certainly a good boost for his resume."

"You overachievers wear me out," said Caiti. She stole another crisp. "I'm just trying to be decent at one thing."

"Decent," snorted Marlowe. This time, he scooped up some of the crisps and put them on Caiti's plate.

"But anyway, back to the point," she said. She picked up the crisps and put them back on Marlowe's plate. She took one back and popped it in her mouth. Marlowe looked exasperated. "Don't feel like you have to do it for him. If you want to go to bed or write your own essay or eat your lunch at a healthy pace, you do it. And if he gets mad about it, I'll be having a word with him. You're doing too much already and he'd better appreciate you."

"He does," said Evelyn quietly.

"Well you let me know if he's an idiot, alright?"

One side of Evelyn's lips quirked up. "Will do," she said.

When classes ended that day, Sean took Evelyn's hand outside their classroom and rounded the corner heading, not towards Ravenclaw tower, but the library. Their professors had evidently decided to pretend there had never been a break at all. Evelyn had already been assigned a complicated rune translation, a three foot essay for transfiguration, and six chapters of divination reading on horoscopes and tarot cards.

Remembering Caiti's conversation with her at lunch, Evelyn almost hesitated. But Sean glanced at her and said, "So I thought maybe you could look for some good defensive spells while I finish up about the magical creatures. What do you think?"

Evelyn could not help herself. She could not say no to him. After all, he needed the help and the support. This tournament was bigger than her homework.

"Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "Yeah, that sounds good." She would just have to stay up late when they were finished and do her homework. She knew there wouldn't be time to do it tomorrow; Sean would need her help again. She could not put her own work off.

In the library, they dropped their bags at a large dark wood table where they could spread everything out, and then set off to find a stack of books each to peruse. Evelyn entered the row on defensive magic, a few paces down from where Sean was looking. She crossed her arms and walked up and down the aisle, scanning the titles. A few looked promising including _At Wit's End: Defensive Magic for The Last Second _by Jessica Fastbender and _The Brave Wizard's Guide to Self-Defense _by Terrence Armstrong.

She beat Sean back to the table. He came over a minute later with so many books in his arms that he could not see over the pile. He let them fall onto the table, making a considerable amount of noise. The librarian hurried to shush them.

"You can't _possibly _make it through all those tonight," Evelyn whispered.

"Well if I don't, I'll just bring them back to the common room," Sean said, already opening the first.

"Sean," said Evelyn, putting a hand on the book so he could not read. He looked at her. Careful to keep her voice hushed, she continued, "I'm not saying you shouldn't take this seriously, but we have three weeks. There's plenty of time."

"Three weeks," Sean repeated. "Three weeks to prepare for what could be a life-threatening task that I know next to nothing about."

Evelyn tipped her head to the right with a gentle frown. "But you haven't had three weeks," she insisted. "You've had six and a half years." He started to protest, but she shook her head, "Stop, stop. Listen to me. You've had six and a half years of learning how to do magic. You're a great student, a great _wizard. _The Goblet of Fire knew that already or it wouldn't have picked you. If you couldn't do this, even without preparation, you wouldn't have been chosen."

"Well the judges keep saying we should be preparing ourselves-"

"And I'm not saying you shouldn't, I'm just saying," she dropped her voice even lower because the Madam Page was looking their way again, "that you shouldn't let yourself think three weeks is all you've got. Don't forget about everything you already know. That isn't useless and it isn't not preparing either. I think you're more stressed than you need to be."

Sean sucked his cheeks in, chewing on them. Evelyn knew he did this when he was thinking. His brown eyes locked on hers. He let his cheeks back out again and looked at his watch. "We're wasting time," he said.

Evelyn couldn't help letting out a moody sigh. She slumped over, chin on her elbow, and opened one of the books she had pulled out. Sean had always been stubborn. She should have realized there would be no reasoning with him.

"I'm sure you're all aware, at this point, of what's happened in the Daily Prophet," said Professor Mason at the start of class that Wednesday. He was sitting on the edge of his desk with his hands pressed down and shoulders up by his ears. Evelyn felt her stomach turn over. She did _not _know what had happened. For once, she had not been keeping up with her nightly patrol of the paper, searching for any reported incidents relevant to the other small articles she had discovered. She had been so busy helping Sean as often as possible, and then staying up late to finish all the homework she had been assigned that her Prophets had been relegated to an ever-growing pile on her bedside table with the intention of catching up later.

"I wanted to take a minute away from what the ministry thinks you ought to learn for your N.E.W.T.'s because this, what's happening, is real Defense Against the Dark Arts, happening right in front of you. This is why we learn this stuff." He punctuated his words, looking around at them all. His eyes were hard and serious. It struck Evelyn that the fact that she noticed this meant something in itself. Professor Mason was, after all, always serious.

Everyone had begun whispering to their neighbors and giving each other meaningful looks. Evelyn glanced at Sean, and was relieved that he did not seem to know what was happening either. Neither did Marlowe, on Sean's other side, though this did not surprise her. Marlowe took very little interest in the news.

"I'm not sure how many of you read the papers regularly. And even those who do have to know you can't always trust them. But you also have to know when you can. Miss O'Sullivan, I know you've picked up on the pattern."

Evelyn felt like her face was on fire at being called out. She hoped he did not ask her to contribute anything on the latest - whatever it was - because she did not want him to know that she had been less watchful recently. She tried to smile a little, but let her eyes flicker down to the desk quickly.

"Now, just in case you haven't heard," he continued, "A recent issue of the Daily Prophet was sent out as usual, the employees unaware that the front page had been, for lack of a better term, hijacked. A group which we now know for sure has aligned themselves with historical terrorist group, the Death Eaters, released their manifesto on the front page, hidden, of course, behind the text of the original front page article. Easy enough to miss, unless someone was sitting across from you when you opened the paper to the next page and suddenly saw the words and images change before their eyes.

"In brief, their goal is to overthrow the International Statute of Secrecy. They do not wish to hide their magic any longer, or to, as they put it, allow wizards to be 'relegated to small areas while muggles are allowed the world.' They believe that magical ability gives them the right to rule. This is, of course, a ridiculous idea. Muggle technology is its own kind of magic. Neither of us is more powerful than the other. We are simply different."

He paused here, looking around as though daring someone to challenge him. Evelyn's cheeks were still hot with embarrassment, but the rest of her had gone icy. She felt Sean's fingers brush her forearm under the desk.

Someone behind her must have raised their hand in the silence, because Professor Mason nodded and a girl's voice spoke up saying, "Why do they want to liberate all those magical creatures? What's that going to do for them?"

Professor Mason sighed before he answered. "They don't realize," he began, slowly, "what 'liberation' as they call it will _not_ do for them. First of all, they've neglected to understand that centaurs and goblins... they don't want to be recognized members of wizard society. They don't consider themselves lesser, or downtrodden. They are separate. If anything, goblins think themselves a higher species. Centaurs are naturally distant from wizards. They are not animals, nor are they humans. They live outside our laws and ways of life, and they have very little interest in becoming more in tune with us. They do not see our magic as anything to gain from, although Goblins would certainly like to possess wands themselves. They don't want to be our dependents. Both would see being rescued, so to speak, by wizards, as demeaning. You can see, still, why these particular wizards would want them on their side. Extremely intelligent, powerful abilities. If, indeed, they were interested, their increased communication with wizards would certainly reap benefits. But it is unlikely to ever happen.

"Then you have giants who have been all but tramped out by wizards forcing them into hiding. They've got a grievance with us that won't be easily given up. Of course all these people see is giant power, strength, terror - it's tempting, if you're looking for world domination, to have the giants on your side. But giants have, once before, been allowed a certain amount of free reign, by none other than the original death eaters and their leader, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When he was vanquished, the giants were naturally driven right back into hiding, and they will not be likely to trust us again.

"And then there are werewolves, the most like us, because they are of course, wizards first. Dangerous beyond their own control. The laws that regulate them were written with werewolf contribution, based on their own fears. They isolated themselves previously due to their own fear of themselves. This proved not to be the best method. It bred jealousy and hatred, and led many to embrace their own danger instead of hiding from it. We're finally making strides towards reintegrating werewolves into wizarding society, and a removal of the laws, which these new death eaters claim 'limit' werewolves, would uproot everything. There is a certain inconvenience undoubtedly, to having to register oneself, to make oneself known to others, but those who wrote the laws, both infected with lycanthropy and not, believe it is the best way to ensure the safety of others without banishing the werewolf community.

"I don't believe the new death eaters have looked into what the future would really be like with these powerful and dangerous creatures given so much freedom and prestige. I think they see them as valuable tools in their plan to overthrow the system as it stands, but they haven't realized that reigning them all in again, teaching them who they're allowed to hurt and terrorize and who they are not, won't be easy, if even possible. For as I'm sure you've gathered, what they want is not, as they are claiming at this stage, equal opportunity for all magical creatures - not limited to those we've discussed, I don't doubt you've gathered that merpeople, and possibly others would be included in those they seek to gain allegiance with. What they want, really, is for wizards to rule everyone. Muggles are the start of their plan."

Evelyn was surprised to see Sean's hand go up next to her, tentative and only part way, but somehow it was comforting to know that he took this seriously too, that he cared.

"Mr. O'Connell," said Professor Mason with a nod.

"I just wondered.. Sir... what the ministry, the aurors plan to do about this? And are they concerned that... that what these people want could really happen?"

"I can only guess. My contacts at the ministry aren't keen on giving out much information at the moment, for obvious reasons. We haven't identified any of the members of this organization, you see? Hard to know who to trust. What I do know is that, while they are taking the matter very seriously, it is very unlikely that their plan, as they imagine it playing out, will be successful.

"This is not the first time ideas like these, of wizard supremacy, have come up in a major way. It will likely not be the last either. I think one of the pitfalls of magic, of having a wand is that it is so easy to see yourself as invincible, unbreakable, unstoppable. You think you're capable of anything. And that's dangerous.

"So though I would be very surprised if anything became of this long term, I do not see it as a matter to take lightly. The danger is still very real, very prevalent. It's going to cause a lot of trouble, especially until we're able to track some of the members down and start whittling away at their numbers. I think, in answer to your question, that that's the first priority. _Find them."_

Though Sean felt sure he would regret it later, he knew how important the muggle baitings and the pattern of incidents was to Evelyn, how much it upset her every time she read something new. So he sat himself on a sofa in the common room, waited for Evelyn to return with her papers, and tried not to think about the list of spells they had been compiling for him to practice and perfect before the second task.

She tromped downstairs with a dozen or so papers in her arms and dropped them next to him. "Alright, I'm going to open them, you look to see if the front page changes alright?"

"Got it," said Sean. Evelyn lifted the first paper in front of her and opened to page two.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Nope," said Sean. She threw the paper on the floor and picked up the next, and the next, and the next. It was not until the eighth paper that they found it. "There!" said Sean. The paper had gone inky black with white text and all kinds of intricate woven designs, among them, various magical creatures connected in a gruesome manner by vines that seemed to be growing from their limbs. A masked wizard stood at the top of the page, above the text, his wand held aloft, a figure of power, a conqueror. Beneath the wizard, the other creatures looked to be placed in a strategic order of power, a sort of food chain. "Woah," said Sean. He had not read a single word and already he felt sick to his stomach.

"What?!" asked Evelyn. She tried to turn it around but as soon as she began to close the paper it disappeared. She flipped it around so that it was lying open with the front page up, but still the headline read "Owl Post Under Severe Delays Due to Extreme Cold Temps."

"Here I'll hold it up for you to read," said Sean. "Must be the only way. And then you can hold it for me." He unfolded it again and did not read the articles inside while Evelyn looked over the Manifesto. She took barely a minute before she took the paper from him and turned it around. In the short glimpse he had of her face before she was hidden behind the Prophet again, he noticed her face looked rather greener than usual. He did not bother reading thoroughly because Professor Mason had done a good job of summing it up and covering all the major points. Still, to see it listed there, in the words of whoever had written it, it was sickening.

He put his hand on the top of the paper to cue her to lower it. She folded it back up and hid it underneath all the others.

"Awful," said Sean, because he did not know what else to say.

"What I want to know," said Evelyn. She sat very rigid, perched on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped in her lap. "Is how the minsitry's going to protect the muggles. They have no idea."

Sean reached over and put his hand over both of hers. "I don't know Ev," he said. "I don't know."

Then she surprised him. "Come on," she said. "We've got to practice some of those jinxes tonight." He couldn't pretend he wasn't relieved. He was not keen on spending the evening talking about the situation, not because it wasn't important, but because he did not know what to tell her. He did not know how he could possibly make anything better by talking about it. And anyway, the word might have been in crisis, but that did not mean his personal crisis had disappeared.

"Yeah," he said. "If you're up to it..."

"Come on," she said again. She picked up her bag, stuffed the newspapers into it, and stood. Sean followed her out the door and into the corridor.

A little ways down the staircase to the floor below, he wrapped his arm around Evelyn and said, "Nothing's going to happen to your family, Ev. They'll be alright." She did not say anything, but he saw her blink a few times, quickly, and then squeeze her eyes shut for just a second. He brushed his fingers up and down on her arm and opened his mouth to say something else, but she beat him.

"Don't promise," she said. He shut his mouth. She had known what he was about to say. "You don't know."

As a second-semester seventh year, Marlowe was sure going back to school after the holidays would have been plenty hard anyway. But with all that had (finally) happened with Caiti, it was next to impossible. He had just re-read the same sentence at least a dozen times without ever grasping what it said. He had memorized, however, the crooked way that Caiti was biting her lower lip, and the way her eyes scanned slowly across the page and then flicked back to the other side quickly, and the way she traced each line of text with her pinky finger as she read.

He accidentally looked at her when she was looking at him. Their eyes met and Caiti gave him a mischievous smile. "Why aren't you working?"

"I am working!" Marlowe said defensively.

"You haven't turned a page in like... ten minutes." Caiti raised her eyebrows at him and laid her quill underneath the line she had been reading so she would not lose her place.

"Well I tried to focus, but I can't. I'm ready to graduate," he said, leaning back into the sofa cushions. He folded his hands behind his head and shut his eyes.

"You've got six months," Caiti said, poking him in the knee. "Try again."

Marlowe opened his eyes again and considered her. "Come sit by me," he said. "You can bring your book." She was sat on the floor, surrounded, as was traditional, by a semicircle of books, rolls of parchment, quills, ink bottles, and notes.

"I don't know why I'm encouraging this," Caiti said as she stood up. Marlowe had just closed his book. There was no point in trying anymore. No motivation would be better than a good old-fashioned time crunch. Caiti rested her shin on the couch before she sat down, leaning onto one hip, and tucking her other leg up next to the first. Her shoulder pressed into his. She laid her book open on her lap. Marlowe wrapped his arm over her shoulders and dragged two fingers down either side of her dutch braid, starting at the crown of her head. Caiti shivered.

"Can I take it out?" he asked, tugging on the end of her braid.

She glanced at him, sucking in her cheeks, and nodded. He slid off the elastic so he could comb his fingers through her hair, glossy and golden as always, but a little fluffy and kinky where it had been braided. It was only a minute or two, before Caiti shut her book too. She adjusted her position so that her right foot was no longer underneath her and let both knees fall sideways, resting partway into Marlowe's lap. "You're putting me to sleep," she said, settling into him more.

He laughed. "It's all a part of my plan."

"What plan?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. His fingers, still entangled in her hair, got pulled with her head.

Marlowe considered this. He had not, after all, really had a plan. "To make it impossible," he said finally "for you to refuse helping me brew a potion without a recipe. We have to be able to invent something with only the ingredients on hand."

"Easy," said Caiti.

"Says the potions master."

"No, really. It'd be much more difficult if you weren't given select ingredients. If you can choose from anything in the world... well, you'd better have a specific idea in mind, and a lot of time to research the properties of potential ingredients and how they might react together... and... oh-"

"So you'll help?" he said.

But Caiti had just sat bolt upright. "What time is it?" she asked.

He pulled his hand out of her hair to check his watch. "Quarter to seven, why?"

"Crap!" shouted Caiti. "Crap, crap, crap!" She jumped up and started shoving everything back into her black tote. "You just reminded me.. I've got to go, sorry!" She snagged her hair tie from the coffee table where Marlowe had put it and threw her hair into a sloppy ponytail that Marlowe loved.

"Need to go where?" he asked.

Caiti leaned down, put one hand on his shoulder and kissed him, short and dry. "Bye," she said. "Sorry." And then she was hurrying towards the door.

"Come on!" he said, half laughing. "You can do better than that!" Caiti turned over her shoulder to grin at him and wave with wiggling fingers. "Where are you going?!" he called, but she was already out the door.

"God!" said Marlowe loudly. "What a tease."

A couple of third year girls sitting nearby began giggling and tittering madly. Marlowe felt rather pleased with himself.


	20. The Second Task

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty. The Second Task.

"I can't do this," said Sean.

"You can do this," said Evelyn.

"I'm not ready," said Sean.

"You're ready," said Evelyn.

"I'm going to make a complete fool of myself," said Sean.

Evelyn gave him a scathing look, but did not, otherwise, gratify this remark with a response.

She slid down the wall they were standing against, reached up for his hand and pulled him down with her. Sean was set to meet the other champions and judges here in a quarter of an hour. He had not been able to resist leaving early. The common room, bubbling with eager anticipation of the task and far too many well-wishers, anxious to see their champion perform a repeat of the triumphant first task.

Sean was not feeling so confident. His nerves were, in some ways, lesser than the first time around, if only because he was not facing the entire tournament this time. After tonight, he would be two thirds done, just one last hurdle to get past, whatever came of it. In other ways, though, his nerves were greater. People had expectations of him now.

"Distract me" said Sean miserably. He bounced the back of his head lightly against the wall. "Please."

Evelyn's dirty look turned into a sly smile. "Distract you, huh?" she said. "Come'ere."

Sean turned his head. He saw Evelyn's chest swell under her robes with a slow intake of breath. Her blue eyes were determined, but still unsure. He knew what was coming. Evelyn did not usually initiate kisses. It calmed him to think that she could still find it within herself to be nervous about something other than what was coming in such a short time.

And then, for the first time all day, maybe even all week, he was not thinking at all.

When they broke apart - Sean was not sure how much time had passed - he blinked a few times, almost forgetting where he was. It was not until he heard Oscar's voice coming down the hall, talking to someone in rapid French, that he remembered. "That was effective," he said to Evelyn.

"God, so _clinical,_" she teased, smacking his knee. Sean frowned and she shook her head. "Muggle medical lingo," she explained. Her mother was a pediatric nurse.

Sean stood, offering his hand to help Evelyn up. She would have to leave soon. The spectators were all walking to Hogsmeade, where the task had been set up. The champions and judges would take one of the carriages usually reserved for the journey to and from the Hogwarts express.

"Listen," said Evelyn. She put both hands on her arm. "You're fine. You're prepared. I'm proud of you no matter what, and..." She paused, glancing over his shoulder towards Oscar's nearing voice. She lowered her own voice. "Sean, I love you," she said.

Sean felt himself standing up straighter. It was not the first time she had said these words to him by any means, but it was certainly the first time that she had said them since they had become more than friends, not to mention the first time in this way, looking straight at him. Not in passing. Not joking around and laughing. Not over her shoulder as she left him.

He opened his mouth, but then Oscar rounded the corner and came into sight. Evelyn took a step back. He hesitated. "I should... go..." she said.

"Yeah..." he said. "Yeah I guess so."

She stepped forward and pecked him on the lips and then started backing up again. "You're fine. You'll be great."

Sean nodded dumbly. She started to turn around to walk away when he remembered himself. "Wait, Ev," he called. She stopped, turning around again. He glanced behind him at Madame Maxime's towering figure, at Oscar's pompous expression. Then he walked to where she stood, pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, "I love you too. Thank you, Ev, for waiting with me. And for helping, and... everything."

They broke apart and she gripped his upper arms for a moment. "As soon as you're finished," she said, "I'll be right there. Okay?"

"Yeah," Sean nodded. His nerves were coming back now. "Okay."

She hugged him one more time and then she was gone.

"Pretty girl," said Oscar behind him. "You brought her to ze Yule Ball."

Sean nodded. "My best friend," he said. Oscar raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay more than that," said Sean. He gave Oscar a sheepish smile.

"How is he?" asked Caiti. Evelyn looked up from the scarf she was tying around her neck. She was already wearing her warmest coat, fuzzy boots, a wool hat, and thick gloves. Holding a task outside in February was, in her opinion, a sick joke.

"Better than last time," she said. "Definitely nervous, but I think he's got himself under control at least."

"Good," said Caiti. "I'm not running all the way to Hogsmeade to intercept him again."

"And how are you holding up?" asked Marlowe as they headed out the door.

Evelyn looked at him, a breath stuck at the top of its cycle. After a few moments, she let it out and said, "Alright. Just want it over with."

"Agreed," said Caiti. She and Marlowe walked very close to one another, so that their shoulders bumped occasionally and their arms brushed. Caiti felt a little guilty about it when she saw Evelyn hugging herself, arms around her middle.

They pushed out the oak front doors and into the frigid evening. It had not snowed in weeks, but what remained had grown hard and icy, more treacherous than before. The grounds were well taken care of, neat little paths melted in the snow which they walked along single file. But as they approached the gate, Caiti saw that the path to Hogsmeade looked much less promising. The winding road was covered in patches of ice, sometimes so wide they were unavoidable. Her first step beyond the fence was a precarious one. She felt her feet sliding apart from one another and she grabbed Marlowe by the arm.

"Caiti," he said, doing his best to keep them both steady, "if you go down, I'm going down with you."

She laughed, puffs of foggy breath visible in the cold air.

The three of them shuffled along the path, Caiti never letting go of Marlowe the whole way. The walk took them at least a quarter of an hour longer than usual and by the time they arrived, the stands were already half full.

The task had been set up at the foot of the mountains Caiti could see most of the course quite clearly from where they sat down. She leaned over to Evelyn who had been exceptionally quiet the whole walk over. "Does this look like what he was preparing for?"

Evelyn shook her head slowly. "I don't know."

"Okay, gather round please," called Professor Osset inside the champion's tent.

Mr. Fenwick stepped forward when they had all found places around the oblong table that had been set up in the center of the room. Sean thought he looked exhausted. His skin was sallow and a little yellow, and puffy bags hung under his eyes like he had not been sleeping. "So," he began. "The second task is upon us already. As you'll no doubt remember, Mr. O'Connell leads us, followed by Miss Halvorson, and Mr. Durand. We have three items here on this table, each of which will be of particular use in the task. You will each receive one. Mr. O'Connell, of course, will choose first."

He stopped talking abruptly and Sean did not immediately realize that he was expected to make his decision now. There was a beat before he said "Oh. I can...?"

Professor Osset nodded kindly and Sean turned his attention to the table. He had paid surprisingly little attention to these three items since entering the tent and now found he regretted that he had not given the decision more thought.

There was a golden sword on the far left, it's blade impossibly thin and sharp. It intimidated him the same way curses did and he turned to the next items, hoping one of them seemed more appealing.

In the middle of the table was a broomstick. He had a fleeting thought that, if it were Marlowe here in his place, this would have been his choice in a heartbeat. He could practically the picture the mouthwatering adoration that would have been Marlowe's face in the presence of a broom like this, world cup standard, the best in the world. It's handle was sleek and highly polished, made of a pale cedar wood. For a moment, he thought this must be the one to choose, but then he glanced to the right side of the table where the third item sat, this one so much smaller than the other two. It was a tiny bottle of purple liquid. A tag had been tied around the neck which read "Strengthening Solution (Medicinal)."

Sean looked back at the broom. The greedier part of himself wanted to choose it, badly. Just to fly it would have been... but something about that little bottle was nagging at him. He could immediately see how it could be useful, a way to keep himself going if something happened, perhaps. It was Caiti's face that popped into his head when he reached out and took the potion. "This one," he said, his eyes flickering regretfully back to the broom.

Eline did not waste a moment before she grabbed the sword and Oscar, with a heavy sigh, was left with the broom. He lifted it from the table gingerly and held it out away from himself with his nose wrinkled. Sean got the impression that he wasn't an altogether confident flier.

"Excellent," said Mr. Catchlove. "Now we'll just draw numbers for our order and we'll get started. Ladies first, I think." He pulled the drawstring on a green velvet bag and held it out to her. Eline reached into the bag and emerged with a small, silver block. She held it the center of her open palm where the metal unfolded and twisted itself into a number three.

"Mr. Durand," said Mr. Catchlove, holding out the bag once more. Oscar reached in and came out with an identical cube which formed itself into a number one. Oscar closed his fist over it, face set.

"And of course, Mr. O'Connell." Second, thought Sean, was good. He reached into the bag and pulled out the last cube, already knowing what it would be. The metal was cool on his hand and somehow remained untarnished by fingerprints when he picked it up to examine.

"Alright, we'll be starting in just a moment. Your goal is to capture the golden flag at the end of the course. Good luck to all of you." Mr. Catchlove made eye contact with each of them in turn, his eyes hard and intense. Mr. Fenwick gave the three of them a weak smile at large and checked his watch. He glanced at the ceiling of the tent before he headed out.

By the time Sean exited the tent again, the sun had just begun its descent. He walked out into bright, blinding light and tumultuous applause from the Hogwarts crowd. His heart was pounding again. He heard Mr. Catchlove announcing something about the potion Sean had chosen, which was now tucked into the inside pocket of his robes.

Then the cannon went off and before he had fully registered that his turn at the task was beginning, he was taking a few cautious steps up the craggy rock at the foot of the mountain. His wand was clutched tightly in his fist, fingers going purple with cold. Despite the sun, he was freezing already. His toes were numb inside his shoes as he walked up to the starting line.

He took a few more steps, not even one hundred percent certain in what direction he was meant to go. From this angle, it looked as though his task was simply to climb the mountain, which seemed both entirely non-magical and a shame that he had not, after all, chosen the broomstick.

But surely there was more to it. He glanced back at the stands which, perhaps due to his lack of action, were quite silent. He needed to get moving. The task was timed and how fast he made it through the course would determine his score. Sean started moving again, clutching at protruding rocks to help himself navigate the uneven ground. He kept slipping on patches of ice, and the air was so cold that breathing it nearly made him choke; it stuck in his windpipe like he had swallowed icicles rather than oxygen.

By the time he made it to some sort of a landing where he could stand and walk fairly normally, he was already exhausted. The cold sucked the energy out of him faster than climbing alone would have. He walked across the snow to other edge of what looked to be a cliff.

Across the valley between the next ledge of higher ground were a series of blocks, floating in midair. Sean stood staring at the nearest one, much too far to jump to. He gripped and regripped his fingers on his wand while he tried to think what to do. Perhaps if he could build a bridge? But he was not sure he trusted his own ability in that matter. He paced back and forth, trying to see the situation from another angle. This, he thought, was certainly what the broom had been intended for.

Suddenly he remembered a spell that had been mentioned once or twice in transfiguration. It was not one he had ever tried, but he had this feeling that it might be what he needed. He swallowed hard, blinking back the tears produced by the icy wind smacking against his face, pointed his wand at the nearest block and said _"Locomotor."_

Nothing happened. It was, in truth, only half the incantation Sean had heard about, but he had not been trying to bring anything to life. He had only wanted it to move. He knelt down, putting both hands on his face. He breathed warm air into his hands to defrost them while he thought. Moving the blocks had to be the answer. He just needed a different spell.

From this new angle he caught sight of something in the deep crack at the bottom of the cliff that he had not been able to see before, hidden under the blocks. There was a wooden square board embedded into the rock below with some sort of a symbol on it. Sean could barely see what it was from here, so far down it lay, but his gut feeling told him it was some sort of a lock. He pointed one shaky hand at the symbol and said, praying that this would do something - anything - _"Alohomora!"_

The board sunk down a few inches and then he heard a rumbling from all around him. He stood, quickly. The blocks had begun to move, sliding back and forth at varying tempos. But that was not all that had happened.

Down inside the ditch, the wooden board had continued to sink until it had revealed a very deep hole in the rock out of which were flying at least a hundred doxies. He recognized the thick black hair that coated their little bodies and double sets of arms and legs. What was especially odd was that they did not seem capable of flying past a certain point, confined by some invisible magical barrier to the cavernous open space between to the two cliff edges. From where Sean stood now, he was safe, but he knew if he was meant to cross the gap at all, he would have to brave them somehow.

He could remember watching his mother spray at six or seven of them with doxycide when they had nested behind the living room curtains, but he had no doxycide, nor was he sure, to be honest, what it was made of. He had never before found doxies all that frightening, though he knew from being told to stand far back by the piano on the wall opposite the curtains, that their bite was venomous. Now though, with a still increasing number of doxies swarming the blocks he desperately needed to cross, he found them much more menacing. He thought of the strengthening solution in his pocket and wondered if he would need to use it at the first hurdle.

The nearest block was approaching him again and Sean, bouncing on his heels both for warmth and in the hopes that he would feel prepared to enter this mess, waited for it to reach the cliff edge. It stopped for a moment, hovering about a foot from where he stood, and taking a deep breath, Sean made the jump. The doxies dove at him immediately. Two or three pulling at his hair and his robes. He felt one sink its tiny sharp teeth into the pointer finger of his left hand. He swore loudly as he tried to shake it off. _"Imobullus!"_ he shouted, freezing a couple of doxies near the tip of his wand. _"Stupefy! Imobullus!"_

But for every one he froze, there were a dozen more swarming him. He could not keep up. He swatted at them, trying not to panic. He was worried that he would lose his balance and go plummeting off the edge of his block and to the rocks down below.

_"Stupefy!" _he yelled again, trying to buy himself a few seconds to see when the next block would come near enough to make a jump. He had gone back and forth along the invisible track of the one he rode at least five times now, and he was heading away from the wall again. The second block was moving much more quickly than the one he rode on. Any second it would be close enough to jump. He felt a doxy bite the back of his ankle right through his pants and he kicked it off hard. The few seconds delay cost him the perfect moment, but he went for it anyway. He bent his knees and jumped, tumbling onto the next block. He nearly rolled off, but he managed, still swatting doxies away, to hang on and scramble back to his feet.

He stood with a wide stance, feeling noticeably more unsteady now. He was not sure if his imbalance was due to the second doxy bite, which was stinging horribly, or the fact that this block was trundling along right and left at a rapid pace. It was passing by six or seven others that he would be able to reach and he did not know which was best to go for. What he did know, was that he needed to get across as soon as possible. He kept firing off stunners at the doxies while he waited for an ideal moment. And then he went for it.

The moment he landed, he saw another block just nearby and dove for that one immediately, tumbling to his knees from his lack of preparation. He gripped the edge of the block before he could fall and heaved himself up to standing. This one was heading for the opposite end of the opening. He would be out in just a few more seconds.

_Immobulus!" _he yelled, smacking another doxy away from his ear. Then, just as he jumped, one last doxy bit down hard on the skin on the inside of his elbow. He grabbed it in his fist and chucked it back into the pit where it joined its fellows in hammering at the edges of whatever enchantment they could not cross on their own. Sean doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing ragged. The three bites were smarting badly, but he counted himself lucky that there had not been more.

While he looked around for where to go next, Sean felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. He had the uncanny feeling that something was behind him, watching. He turned his head slowly and when nothing was there, he rotated his whole self. But all he saw was a smooth, grey rock. He took a few steps backward, still looking at the spot where he had been sure he felt some sort of a presence. Then he turned again and set off towards somewhere.

There were no arrows pointing him in the right direction. No roped off areas leading him up the mountainside. He could still see hear and see the audience, though their cheers were muffled by the wind and at this distance he could not make out faces at all. He trudged on, towards the only thing that seemed a possible next location: a landing a ways above him with enough footholds to climb up. Perhaps to save time he could conjure another rope ladder like he had done in the first task.

He began to climb the shallow slope upward, looking for a good place to conjure the ladder, for some sort of a knob where it could be secured easily with a simple hover charm. The further he climbed however, the less likely his idea seemed plausible. He was beginning to feel a vague sense of desperation, buried still in the back of his mind, but pricking at him all the same. He could not shake it.

Again, he had the feeling that something was behind him. He stopped, turned, and saw nothing. He began to climb again, but then he stopped just as soon and swiveled around again still hanging onto the handholds he had found. He could have sworn he had seen a rock identical to the one when he had first felt that odd sensation that he was not alone.

Surely there were not two rocks of that same almost silver grey, both so smooth and round they stood out from the sharp, jagged rocks of the mountain. But now he could not find it again. He told himself that he had simply imagined it, and began to climb up again. Finally, he spotted a decent place to attach a ladder and, hooking his elbow around a protrusion in the rock next to him, he waved his wand and conjured one. Catching it in his his free hand, he pointed his wand arm at it and said _"Wingardium Leviosa."_

It floated slowly out of his hand, and he directed it upward with his wand. It took several tries before he successfully hooked the end over what he hoped was a sturdy rock.

And what if it wasn't? The nagging feeling was back again, hopelessness setting in. He had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't even sure he was completing the task he was meant to complete. He imagined the people back in the stands jeering at him, laughing as they watched him blunder far off the course, climbing mountains for no reason.

The whole thing was stupid, really. Utterly pointless. What had he imagined would be up on that ledge. He turned around slowly, thinking he would just walk back down and resign. He thought of what people would say to him that night, for the rest of the year even. The Hogwarts Champion, a failure, a quitter. He thought of Evelyn's face when she realized what he was doing, after all she'd done to help him prepare. After pouring through thousands of books. What would she say when she realized it had all been a waste of time?

Then he spotted it again, the rock. This time, he was sure it was the same one. It had to be. He crouched slowly, cautious, and as he reached it's level, he was sure he saw it breathing. But rocks could not breathe.

Evelyn was still on his mind, and this was a good thing, because he suddenly remembered sitting across from her the library, weeks ago, reading up on an odd little creature called the Pogrebin who resembled a rock when crouching. They followed wizards around, instilling in them an increasing sense of hopelessness and would attack when the wizard finally grew too weak and distressed to carry on.

Sean wondered if this rock thing was not really a rock at all, but a Pogrebin. He lifted his wand again, pointed it slowly at the thing, hoping not to startle it, and said, _"Stupefy!" _The smooth rock unfurled into a foot tall, hairy creature, which rolled a few feet away, unconscious. It's round, bald head looked oddly mismatched with the rest of it's body.

Sean shook his head, ridding himself of what he could of the dismal feelings, and began to climb his ladder, hoping that he was not, after all, mistaken in heading for this ledge.

As soon as he crested it, he spotted a glint of gold a ways above him. He felt at once a swooping sense of relief that he was, after all, on the right track - for here was the flag - and a sinking, leaden terror. There was a cave in front of him, inside which was waiting a creature he had only seen in pictures. Something like a gigantic, dull purple camel in appearance, with the addition of two very dangerous looking horns Sean was sure could pierce right through him, the graphorn raised its head to see who had disturbed it. It emitted a low rumbling growl and Sean took a step back, closer to the ledge. He did not want to fall, but his perch was not particularly large and to step closer to the graphorm was not an enticing idea either.

It lunged. _"Protego!" _shouted Sean. The graphorn's horns shattered his shield charm as soon as they hit it, but at least it had held the creature back from shattering Sean. _"Protego!" _he said again, as he was not sure what sort of a stunner would be effective on a creature of this size and strength. He had a sinking feeling it would repel all the usual ones without help.

With a desperate thought that he was sure would not lead to anything he cried _"Accio flag!" _As expected, it was protected by some sort of enchantment and did not zoom towards him.

Then he heard something that surprised him: words. And the accent, though Sean had not, in his focus on the graphorn, caught what had been said, was unmistakably French.

"Get out of it's sight! Behind it!"

It was definitely Oscar. But why was he still here? Had he not completed the task?

_"Impedimenta!" _shouted Sean, as the graphorn lunged again, and it's momentary stall, he dove forward, running into the cave. He found Oscar crouched in the back with a deep graze on his cheek, no doubt from one of the graphorn's horns.

"You haven't finished?" Sean asked.

Oscar pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. In a very low voice, he glanced at the graphorn who, confused, was shuffling backwards into the cave again and settling down, too large to turn around inside. "I managed to sneak past it back here, and I was trying to figure out what to do when I heard the cannon again and then you'd started to task. So I just waited. I thought they must have disqualified me for something, that they'd come and get me soon. But no one's come."

Sure enough, they heard the distant blast of the cannon and a sudden roar from the audience. "That'll be Eline then..." Sean murmured.

They sat in silence, letting this fact sink in. Sean couldn't work out what was meant to happen. Were they expected to wait here for her too, or were they supposed to have gotten to the flag already. Did the judges think entering the cave was a sort of surrender?

"So the flag..." said Sean slowly after several long minutes. Time felt very slow in the dark. It pressed in on him, the only plus that the wind was no longer cutting through his cloak. He felt the feeling coming very slowly back into his fingers, prickling and burning at first.

"Only one flag," said Oscar. "I think."

"Not one for each of us."

"Right."

Sean had always thought Oscar was very slight, but he had never seen him looking so small. "I think," Sean said slowly, "that we're supposed to work together. The three of us."

The lighting was dim, but he saw Oscar smile and give a small nod before he looked away.

"And by the way," Sean added, "thanks."

"For what?" asked Oscar.

"For telling me to come back here."

Oscar shrugged. "This competition is difficult," he said.

They sat crunched in the cave for around half an hour before Sean heard Eline clamber onto the rock. He wondered if anyone had come to remove the ladder he had made or whether she had used it to climb up. Oscar, no doubt, would have used the broom, which was resting against the cave wall next to him.

The graphorn began to stalk out of it's cave again. The sun had almost set now, and the last of the evening light crept it around it's hulking figure. Sean looked at Oscar. "Should we tell her?" he whispered.

Oscar opened his mouth but said nothing. After a moment, he shook his head. "Let's sneak out behind it first. Then we'll help."

They stood. Sean had to hunch over, just too tall for the cave ceiling. At the opening of the cave, Sean called out to her. "Eline!" he said. "We've got to work together."

She was momentarily distracted. "You're still here?" she asked.

"There's only one flag. We're supposed to help each other to get it."

Her gaze turned steely. She slashed her wand through the air, shouted "_incarcerous"_ and ropes sprung out of the tip of her wand and bound the graphorn around the throat. It wheezed, but it was stronger than the spell, and with only a moment's struggle, the ropes snapped off leaving the creature more aggressive than ever.

"What are you doing?" yelled Sean over the racket. "We have to work together or it won't work. Come on!"

"Maybe," she called back, "we are supposed to beat each other instead, be the first to get the flag. _Stupefy!_" The stunner, as Sean had suspected, did not seem to bother the creature at all, besides a second or two's disorientation.

Sean could not believe that Eline's theory was true, if only because, were that the case, the task would have been a race from the start. He and Oscar would not have been allowed to wait there while the next competitor started. It would likely still be Oscar's go at the course.

He heard Eline call out an incantation for a jinx he had never heard of before. The graphorn roared, more annoyed than weakened. It dove at her, mauling her to the ground. She screamed, high and earsplitting. Sean saw blood pooling from a wound in her hip.

"Stunners on three," yelled Sean over the graphorn's continued noise.

"No!" said Oscar, putting a hand on Sean's arm. "It'll crush her. We have to lure it away."

"How?" asked Sean. He was beginning to panic. Eline, except for a low groan, was not making any sound, nor did she look like she planned on moving soon.

"Take care of her, I've got a plan."

Oscar shot up purple sparks which caught the graphorn's eye. It lumbered around clumsily and reared back when it saw Oscar standing there, flickering light showering out the tip of his wand. Sean prayed that trusting him was the right idea and took advantage of the graphorn's distraction to pull Eline as far away as he could. He fumbled around in his robes for the little bottle which he had yet to use, finally grasping it. He lifted Eline's head and upper body into his lap as gently as possible so that he could pour the potion into her slightly parted lips without causing her to choke.

She was nearly unconscious now, her eyelids flickering and her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. Sean was not sure if the potion was intended for this, but he prayed that the clarified "medicinal" meant it would help her, at least temporarily. "Drink this," he said, praying that she could still hear him. Eline swallowed and though she did not miraculously jump up, revived, she was certainly more aware of her surroundings.

Eline sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in her hip. She looked down at it and he could practically see her vision go in and out of focus. The wound was deep, a chunk of skin gouged out. "I don't know how to mend it..." Sean said. "But maybe a bandage, just to get you through..." He waved his wand and a long cloth wrap appeared which he helped her wrap around her hips, hoping it would be enough pressure to staunch the bleeding. He secured it with a sticking charm.

"Can you stand?" he asked. He glanced at Oscar who was still distracting the graphorn with the purple sparks. He was up on the broom, just out of reach, swaying back and forth while the graphorn followed the lights.

"No," Eline croaked.

"That's okay," yelled Oscar from above them. Sean could tell he was uncomfortable on a broom. It wavered under him, not quite in his control. "She doesn't need to. I've got it distracted. We're gonna stun it together. Sean, count. I won't stop the spark until it's time."

"Where's your wand?" Sean asked Eline. She pointed to where she had fallen, and he was just able to make it out hovering precariously at the edge of the ledge. He stood, meaning to creep over and get it, but the graphorn's fumbling steps sent it tumbling off the rock and down out of sight. He peered over edge where it had gone. "Accio, wand!"

It zoomed up and into his hand and he breathed a sigh of relief before running back to Eline. She snatched the wand from him and he was startled to hear her say "Thank you."

"Count!" yelled Oscar.

"Right," said Sean, shaking his head. "Okay. After three, he said. One... two... three! _Stupefy!" _They shouted the incantation together and the graphorn finally collapsed, three spells at once doing what one could not. Oscar shot upward and grabbed the flag from where it was stuck into the rock. He flew back down to the others, looking thrilled to be off the broom. They all looked at each other for a few moments, the sudden quiet almost eerie. Sean remembered again how truly cold he was.

"Now what?" Sean asked.

"We shoot up red sparks?" suggested Eline. Her voice was faint. She needed the nurse, now. His own doxy bites, though much lesser to the wounds of his fellow competitors, were starting to become more and more bothersome. He hoped there was some sort of an antidote waiting for him in the medical tent. He wasn't sure what doxy venom could do if left untreated too long.

"No," said Oscar. "They're coming." Sure enough, the school nurse, Raigan, and oddly, Professor Mason, were flying towards them on brooms.

"You take Miss Halvorson," said Raigan. James nodded and began to help her onto the broom to fly her back down the cliff.

Raigan sized the two boys up. "You're in better shape," she said to Sean. "Take that broom." She nodded to the one that Oscar had just abandoned. "And you come with me."

Sean climbed onto the broom, regretting that he could not really test out its capabilities in the present circumstances. Still, he could feel, as he followed the others back down the mountain to the foot where the students waited for the return of their champions, the truly superior way that the broom handled. He barely had to touch it to make it turn, speed up, or slow down.

The moment they landed, they were hustled off to the champions tent again to have their injuries looked at. "Give him that antidote, there," Raigan said to Professor Mason, nodding at Sean. "On the table. For doxy venom." And she helped Eline over to a stretcher. She was looking greener than ever. Sean did not drink from the bottle he was given immediately. Distracted by watching Raigan peel the bandages he had made away from Eline's injury.

"This _idiotic _tournament," she yelled. "A _graphorn. Really."_

"You'd better drink that," said Professor Mason. "Doxy bites can turn nasty if you don't treat 'em."

Sean glanced at him and sipped the potion. It was slimy, a little thicker than the average liquid, but not altogether unpleasant in taste. He looked back at Eline who had screwed up her face in pain as Raigan began pouring some sort of solution into the wound that sizzled and smoked.

"You, on the bed," she said, pointing to Oscar. He sat down on the edge of the cot next to Eline looking anxious. The cut in his cheek, though nowhere near as deep as Eline's, had been made by the same horns so Raigan was surely coming at him with the same sort of torture device that she had just used. Sean downed the rest of his potion, and without knowing what he was doing, he walked over to Eline's bed and took her hand, squeezing it tight. Tears were leaking out of her eyes that he could tell she was trying to hold back, perhaps had been since she had initially been injured.

He sat with her while Raigan worked on Oscar, and then when she returned to Eline, he never let go of her hand all the while that she mended the deep cut.

"Don't sit up a few minutes," said Raigan, as she turned back to Oscar once more. "I will tell you when you can go and get your scores."

Eline opened her eyes and he felt her fingers squirm in his hand so he let go, not sure now what to do. "Thank you," she said for the second time. All this year, Eline had never once tried to be friendly with him. It occurred to him now that he knew next to nothing about her.

But now was not the time for a heart to heart. He simply nodded and said. "Not a problem."

Ten minutes later, the three of them were stood outside in front of the judges, both Sean and Oscar with their arms around Eline, who was still feeling unsteady. Sean scanned them and noticed that Mr. Fenwick was missing. He could not understand where he had gone. He had been there earlier.

Professor Osset stood to address the crowd. "Tonight we have seen our champions not only compete against each other, but also realize that, despite all our differences, despite being set apart in competition, our true strength only comes through working together. I will not dally on long, except to briefly congratulate the three of them for their powerful exhibition of teamwork and caring for one another under insurmountable odds."

The crowd applauded their approval. "Now... I'm sure you're all anxious to hear the results," he said as the noise died down again. "So without further ado... in third place, with a score of thirty six points, Miss Halvorson of Durmstrang Academy who was, undoubtedly, the fastest competitor through the first half of the task. She used her item of choice, a golden sword, to fight her way through the doxies, but found that the magic of the sword was that it helped the user to beat only one obstscle before he shattered and disappeared. Deductions were made for the severity of the injury she endured by the graphorn. and for her initial discord with the other champions when they suggested working together.

"In second place, Mr. O'Connell of Hogwarts with a score of forty three points. He suffered minor injuries from the doxies and was the slowest to reach the graphorn's cave, however, his purity of heart shone through-" Sean felt his cheeks go hot - "when he not only helped his opponent out of harm's way, but used his own object to revive her, a medicinal strengthening solution which kept her conscious and aware in a truly awful state."

Second. That was good. He had taken a very long time to cross the first few hurtles of the task. And the way they had gotten past the graphorn had not been his idea at all. Besides, his combined score would leave him in first place overall no matter what. He had not totally lost his lead.

"And in first place! Mr. Oscar Durand of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. We award Mr. Durand a score of 46 points, a deduction made for the wound he suffered at the hands - or rather horns - of the graphorn. However, our winner exhibited true leadership, a cool head in dire circumstances, and excellent daring. Mr. Durand faced his own fear of heights and flying with the item he did not choose, but was awarded by default: a broomstick. He put himself at risk to give his fellows the time they needed and was, in the end, the champion to capture the golden flag. Though it was won together, we think it was rightly collected, and we are sure you are all eager to join us in a thorough congratulations of a truly outstanding job. Congratulations again, to all our champions!"

Professor Osset pointed his wand at his throat muttered _"Quietus."_

And then Evelyn was tearing out of the stands towards him and Sean's heart was light.


	21. The Full Moon

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty One. The Full Moon.

Marlowe held Caiti's hand tightly as they slipped up the path back to Hogwarts, hurrying back as fast as they could. They were determined to beat everyone back to the common room so they could set up an even better celebration party than last time. One that would not be ruined by Amelia. Caiti kept shrieking as she hit patches of ice, nearly losing her balance, but the terror quickly turned to laughter.

It was fully dark now, a bright orb-like moon shining high in the sky, hanging over their heads. They looked at each other, grinning. The moonlight was just enough that he could see how pink her cheeks and nose were from the cold. Her teeth chattered violently behind her smile.

It occurred to him how rarely he had been this alone with her. If it had not been so cold, he might have been less inclined to rush back for the sake of Sean.

A short ways up the path, he felt Caiti's hand tug hard on his. She had stopped without warning. He skidded to a halt, doing his best to stay steady on the slick ground, and backtracked a few steps to her.

"What's-" he began to say, but Caiti shushed him.

"I thought I saw something," she whispered. She sidled closer to him so that their arms were stacked, Caiti's shoulder just behind him.

"Saw what?" asked Marlowe, voice low.

"I don't know... just there..." She was looking at a spot some twenty five feet ahead of them, just off the path. Sure enough, he could just make out something in the dark. What, he was not sure.

Marlowe took a few tentative steps forward, Caiti close behind. As they neared the place, Caiti stepped on a patch of ice that cracked loudly under her foot. The thing moved; it was alive. They both stopped, dead still. It raised it's head, revealing great, gleaming dark eyes, eerily human in shape. It was looking right at them. Then it bared its teeth and Marlowe breathed "Run."

They took off, struggling to stay upright on the slippery ground. Marlowe had a horrible, horrible feeling that he knew what was behind them. It was only a few seconds before his suspicion was confirmed. The creature let out a loud, high whistle, and then he could hear it's four feet pounding against the ground. Their head start would be nothing against a werewolf.

Already, he could hear its heavy breathing, even louder than Caiti's terrified gasping breaths next to him. This time, he did not bother being quiet. "Turn!" he yelled, and he pulled her to the right, into the snow. He fumbled into his pocket for his wand, pointed it over his shoulder and said, "Stupefy!" A jet of light shot out the end of his wand but missed the wolf.

Caiti tried to locate her wand as they ran on. They hit a particularly slippery spot in the frozen ground and, without either arm free to help her balance, she tripped. She screamed and her hand yanked out of Marlowe's grasp, miraculously not bringing him down with her. Caiti slid a few feet away and he scrambled to help her up, but at that moment, the wolf shot out in front of him, knocking him to the side, and dove at Caiti.

"No!" yelled Marlowe. In a moment of utter stupidity, he lunged at the wolf, knocking it to the side. They rolled over twice, Marlowe ending up on the bottom, pinned to the ground. He heard Caiti's scream again, this time not just frightened but anguished, cracking, and then he felt razor sharp teeth sink into his shoulder.

* * *

The scream was impossible to miss. Everyone that had not already begun the trek back up to school froze. All talking ceased at once. Then, into the quiet, Sean said loudly, "That's Caiti." His face had gone very white. He felt lightheaded. What had happened to make her produce that sound?

Evelyn gripped Sean's arm, her eyes wide. "How do you know? Sean, it could be anyone."

"You're an only child," he snapped, starting to walk at once. He shoved through the petrified crowd, Evelyn at his heels. "It's like instinct. I _know _that's her." Once they had passed through the crowd, he broke into a run. Shouts were growing louder as they moved. He heard several deep voices send stunners in unison, but nothing was louder than Caiti who continued to scream, now one word, continuously, "No! No! No!"

Her voice sounded awful, breaking and gasping. They rounded a curve and Sean caught sight of four people, adults by the looks of it, rolling something over. It thudded to the ground and he was finally able to see Caiti. She was sitting in the snow, one knee tucked up to her chest, the other bent underneath her, rocking back and forth, and screaming. He sped up, not caring if he fell four times before he got to her.

"Caiti!" he said, dropping down next to her. Evelyn caught up a few moments later. "Caiti what happened?" He tried to take hold of her, but she wrenched out of his grasp and continued to scream. She would not look at him. He turned to look at whatever she could not wrench her eyes from and saw, from behind several of his professors, who he now recognized up close, a body lying on the ground, unmistakable: Marlowe. And a short ways beyond, unconscious and bound up in ropes, was a werewolf. Professor Westwick raised his wand and it's limp body hovered in the air to be carried away.

Everyone around them was talking rapidly, ordering instructions at one another, calling for the nurse.

Evelyn gripped his arm tightly again, so tightly it hurt.

"Come on Caiti," said Sean. His voice was clear and strong.

He did not know why he was so calm. It was like his mind had shut down his emotional side and all that was left was logic.

One of the professors moved, giving Caiti a clear view of Marlowe's face. She screamed louder than ever, and crawled forward on hands and knees, pushing past the people who were trying to ensure that he was still breathing. Her face crumpled completely and she fell forward, forehead pressed into his chest. Her tears were falling so fast that Sean could actually see the wet spot she was leaving on his shirt. Evelyn stood, making a tentative move towards Caiti. She knelt next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Caiti..." she said. Caiti shoved her away the same way she had Sean, and collapsed onto Marlowe again, balling up his robes in her fists,

Then Raigan had arrived. She took one look at Marlowe and said. "St. Mungo's." She waved her wand and a stretcher appeared, settling neatly on the ground, and then she knelt by Caiti, trying, like he and Evelyn had, to ease her away from the situation with a gentle touch. Caiti clawed away from her, hanging onto Marlowe like if she let go, he would suddenly disappear altogether, out of existence. Sean hurried to help, grabbing Caiti around the middle and heaving her off of him.

Her screams began again. "No! No! No!" she said, each one wrenched straight from her gut. It took more strength than Sean had been prepared for to contain her. Raigan helped Marlowe onto the stretcher and performed a few spells to render his condition stable enough to apparate with him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. All the while, Caiti fought, hard, to break free from Sean's grasp.

"Take her to the hospital wing," said Raigan. "I'll be there soon." And then she gripped Marlowe's arm tightly and they disapparated.

It was only when Marlowe was finally gone that Caiti finally fell limp. One last strangled sob slipped out as she sank back to the ground. She put her face in her hands and Sean finally felt all the things he had pushed to the side.

"Oh my god," he whispered. He looked at Evelyn and tears were sliding down her cheeks.

* * *

There was no party in Ravenclaw tower that night, but not a single Ravenclaw went to bed. They all gathered in the common room, pajama clad, and huddled in groups, clustered around the fire and on the sofa. The first years had all banded together on the floor looking shaken. Elliot was not among them. He had already been whisked off to join his family at the hospital. The only other person missing was Caiti.

Sean and Evelyn had stayed with her there until Raigan, looking tired and beaten down, had returned. She'd given Caiti a very strong calming potion for shock and suggested that they let her alone a while. She was staying in the hospital wing over night.

Evelyn sat next to him, her knees tucked up and tipped over into his lap. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder and she held his left hand in both of hers. No one spoke. Besides the whistle of the winter wind outside the tower windows and the inappropriately merry crackle of the fireplace, the room was completely silent when the knocker sounded outside the door.

It was Professor Westwick who entered. He stood just inside the room, his lower lip quavering, and looked around at them all.

"It is wonderful," he said quietly, "to see you all here together, supporting one another." There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Tonight, a tragic event took place, something which never should have happened. I'm sure word of what happened has already reached your ears, so I'm only here to clear up the facts from the rumors, as I believe it would be an insult to Mr. Finnegan if we let it go on that he was anything less than the hero he proved he is tonight.

"You see... and this I can tell you because it is not a secret, though I doubt many of you knew... one of our judges, Mr. Fenwick of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, is a werewolf. Responsibly, he drank the wolfsbane potion made for him tonight, and left the task early when it was not finished before dark. However, something went wrong. Mr. Fenwick was apparently unable to return home, as planned, before he was forced to transfigure. And it seems - I have no more answers than you here, we shall have to wait for further information - it seems that the potion was not effective.

"He did not retain his human mind when he transfigured. He was, indeed, a werewolf in body and mind tonight, though that was certainly not his plan. Miss O'Connell and Mr. Finnegan were unfortunately nearby the wolf before anyone else. It attacked, and, from what we've been able to gather in a very, very brief interview, Marlowe knocked it away from Caitlyn, taking the bite instead."

A gasp swung around the room. No one had wanted to believe that he had been bitten. Not Marlowe. Not good-natured, funny, quidditch star Marlowe.

Sean had known of course. He had seen the bite. Still, hearing it out loud, confirmed, made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

"We don't yet have more word on Mr. Finnegan's condition, but I ask that you all keep him and his family and friends in your thoughts. This is a difficult time for Hogwarts, but for Ravenclaw house in particular. It is, really, such a comfort seeing you all here together. But now, I suggest some rest. I will, of course, keep you updated in the coming days, when I can."

Evelyn had started to cry again. Sean smoothed his hand over her low back, and pressed his lips to her forehead. He was not typically a crier but he almost wished, tonight, that tears would come. He felt like something was stuck inside him, a painful knot twisted in his ribs, a rock shoved into his throat. Still, his eyes remained dry, his face set.

"Hey."

Sean looked up. Theo was standing front of them, shifting back and forth with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Is uhm... is Caiti alright?" he asked.

"She'll be fine," said Sean coldly. It was just like Theo to try and weasel back in the second Marlowe was gone.

"Is she... where is she?"

Beyond Theo, Sean could see a group of Elliot's first year friends talking to Professor Westwick by the door.

"In the hospital wing," said Sean.

"I'm going to talk to her," said Theo, and he stalked off to Professor Westwick.

"You aren't allowed, she needs to rest." said Sean loudly. "Alone." Theo glanced over his shoulder, but didn't stop walking. "I swear, if he messes with her..." said Sean to Evelyn.

Theo waited, staring at the ground, until the first years had scattered, and then he approached Westwick. Sean watched his professor's face soften, and nod. He read his lips: "We'll try." They opened the door and walked out together. Sean clenched his teeth, but he did not have the energy to do anything else.

* * *

Caiti lay flat on her back with her knees up. She stared at the crisp white ceiling of the hospital wing, watching one fan circle lazily around and around. A few beds over, Raigan was tending to Eline's injury again.

Caiti felt stifled. The potion she had been given to help her calm down, while certainly effective, felt temporary, and concealing rather than healing. Somewhere out of reach, she could feel a tightness, a twinge that things inside her were not alright.

She heard voices outside the door, but she did not move. Her hands lay immobile on her belly. The door opened and she heard Raigan's shoes clicking towards the door and then their hushed voices, all s's and p's. She could not make out the words. She stared resolutely at the ceiling and did not see Theo approaching until he was standing over her.

He opened his mouth to speak, clearly unsure, now he was here, what he was going to say to her. Caiti blinked hard. "Please go away," she said. Her voice was scratchy and weak, her throat sore from so much screaming.

"Oh-" said Theo. She heard him take a clumsy step back as she rolled over to face away from him. But he did not leave. She heard no more footsteps leading away and she could sense him behind her, just hovering.

"Sorry," said Theo finally. "I just wanted... I'll go." But still, she did not hear him move.

Caiti bit down hard, squeezing her eyes shut. She balled up the sheets in her fists. A few tears leaked out. She tried to take a deep breath, but it turned into a sob as she let it back out. She felt the mattress depress on the left side and then a hand in her hair. Suddenly, she did not care that Theo was the last person she would have thought she wanted to see. He was familiar and he was good to her and he was very bad at these kinds of situations. He never knew what to say, and just now, that was perfect, because Caiti did not want to, _could_ not talk about it.

She appreciated now what had always bothered her about Theo. He did not ask her questions or say meaningless "It'll all be okay's." And Caiti was glad of it. It would _not _all be okay. It wasn't okay at all. When Sean had been here, all he had wanted to do was ask again and again what had happened, but Caiti could not answer him. She could not say it out loud, because that would make it real. When he had left, it had been a relief, but being alone hadn't really been better.

She rolled over again, pressing her forehead into the side of his knee. He smoothed his hand over her back a few times and left it between her shoulder blades, a light fingertip touch. When she heaved out another huge sob, he slid back so that he could sit against the pillows and the headboard, and he pulled Caiti up to lean against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without a word.

* * *

The next morning, lukewarm sunlight streamed in through the windows and woke Caiti. She opened her eyes. There was about a three second grace period where she took note of the fact that she was not in her own bed, and then she realized why.

The calming drought had long worn off and now, the images, the constant replay that it had pushed out of the front of her mind, were back. The wolf's eyes when it had first looked up. Too human. Then Marlowe's hand pulling out of hers as she fell and the wolf's front paws soaring towards her. Her body frozen, unable to respond. Then Marlowe pinned to the ground.

After that she remembered very little.

Her body began to seize up. Her hands shook uncontrollably. She count not get enough air into her lungs. She felt like someone was standing on her chest. Her eyes and her throat burned. And her mind would not stop circulating over the last detail she knew: Marlowe had been bitten.

The scream rose out of her like someone else's voice.

Someone helped her sit up. She was now shaking so badly she could not support herself. There was a cool hand on the back of her head while she was given another dose of the calming potion from the night before and then they let go and Caiti slumped forward, sucking in shaky breaths. It took a full quarter of an hour before she could lift her head again, at which point, a breakfast tray was set in front of her. Raigan sat down in the chair by the bed.

"He's going to be alright," she assured her. "Alive and recovering."

This did not make Caiti feel all that much better. She had never doubted that he would be alive. She stared at the food on the tray for a minute and then looked away. She could not eat.

"But he's-" Caiti still could not say it.

"Unfortunately, there is no cure," Raigan told her gently. "However, there is-"

"The wolfsbane potion, I know," said Caiti. "I need to go."

She sat up, ripped off the sheets, and started to stand.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave yet, maybe another night here..." said Raigan, hurrying around to the other side of the bed to stop her. "At least eat something."

"I can't," said Caiti. "Thank you." And she slipped her shoes on and headed for the door.

Raigan ran, heels clicking, to catch up. She held out the potion bottle for her. "Every three hours today and tomorrow," she said. "After that, as needed. Two tablespoons at a time."

Caiti paused, took the bottle, and nodded, leaving without another word.

She turned into the nearest bathroom in the hallway and splashed water on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot. She looked exhausted. She dried off with a paper towel and then she headed downstairs to the dungeons.

If anything could make her feel better, it was a quiet classroom and her cauldron.

* * *

St. Mungo's was an odd place, Marlowe thought when he awoke the next morning. He had been out cold all night. The pain of the bite had sent his body into an immediate shut-down. Still, he was very aware what had happened, where he was, even what he was. He could feel the wound healing in his shoulder. It felt off and unfamiliar though it no longer hurt. For now at least, he felt quite calm.

His head had fallen over to one side in his sleep, away from the bitten shoulder. He stared at the uncomfortable chair next to him, scratchy gray fabric coating a worthless excuse for a cushion. The wooden arms were left bare. Still his mother was draped over the chair. Her sleep could not have been comfortable. She was, perhaps, the oddest thing in this room. What with her jeans and her flowery blouse, the iPhone sticking out of her taupe leather handbag which kept buzzing with messages and emitting a little tweet sound like an odd, robotic bird.

It occurred to him how very little he had seen her in a completely magical environment. She was so comfortable with magic in their split home, asking his dad to summon things for her from the top shelf or to get the water boiling faster with a flick of his wand. She loved her husband and her children. She found magic to be a convenience in her everyday life.

But she was still a muggle. She still found movies more interesting than the radio. She would still rather shop in the big shopping centres than Diagon Alley. And Marlowe knew his dad had long given up buying her anything magical in the hopes she might enjoy it. Too many bottles of Sleekeezy's Hair Potion had gone unused ("If you can't pronounce the ingredients. Don't use it," she always told him. "And I've got no idea what any of that is.").

He wondered how she had felt when the healers told her what her son was. Would she have laughed? Cried? Would she have even believed them? He knew she loved him deeply, that she would be upset by what had happened, but he wondered too how much of that she would show him and how much she would hide behind her typically cheerful attitude and easy jokes.

He shifted very slightly and she woke up. She must not have been sleeping very deeply. Perhaps not at all. They made eye contact for a full three seconds before either of them spoke.

"Hi Mum," he said.

She was looking at him like she didn't know how to explain to him what was happening, where he was, any of it.

He started to try to sit up, but she stood quickly coming to the side of the bed. "Don't. You aren't supposed to."

He settled back down again, feeling, for the first time, frustrated by his predicament. "Oh," he said. In truth, he had not really given the matter much thought. He was aware of it, certainly, but he had never fully considered the consequences of his actions, what his future now looked like. There had simply not been time, and then he had been unconscious so long.

One thing was sure, though. He did not regret it. He would not let himself regret it. And if he ever felt himself starting to wish things were different, he would just have to think how much worse he would feel if he had let it be Caiti lying here instead of him.

Then a second prickle of fear peeked through his perfect calm. "Caiti," he said out loud. "Caiti, where is she? She's not..."

His mother frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's not here?" He started to sit up again, panicking. What if, even after what he'd done, it had still gone after her?

"Of course not," said his mom.

"She's okay then?" he asked. "She's not hurt?"

She seemed confused by this. "I don't see why she wouldn't be?"

"She was there, mom. She was there. I- I tried to save her. I need to know that she's okay. She hasn't written? No one's sent word?"

"Sweetheart, everyone's been worried about _you. _I'm sure she's fine."

Marlowe fell back against the pillows, both relieved and frustrated. If she was here too, his mother would have known. They would have arrived together. Still, he wanted definite confirmation. He knew so little.

"I need an owl. I need to write her," said Marlowe. He actually glanced to the window, hoping to see an owl waiting there for him. None was there.

"In a while," said his mother softly. She touched him for the first time, one icy cold hand on his cheek. When she removed it, she looked away, eyes on the partially open door. "Tell me what happened."

"We were coming back from the second task," said Marlowe. "You know that thing Sean's in. And then she saw something and we tried to slip away, but it heard us and then we ran, and Caiti slipped and fell. And I saw it jump and... And I knocked it out of the way. So it wouldn't get her."

"And... what was the thing Marlowe?" she asked. She still wouldn't look at him.

"A werewolf," he said at once. And that was when it hit him. Really hit him. The bite healing in his shoulder smarted. A werewolf. That was him, now. His breath started to feel too short. He felt unlike himself, too similar to just a few hours before to pinpoint the difference, but unfamiliar enough that he was aware of it. He looked to his mom, hoping for some kind of comfort: a joke had always been her go-to. If you can laugh about it, you'll get through it. That's what she'd always said. He would have even taken a hug.

Instead, she stood up and walked out into the hall, crying.

It was for her, Marlowe told himself. I did it for Caiti.

Still, he had begun to feel scared. He did not know who he was. He did not want to know what he was capable of.

Marlowe's healer arrived a quarter of an hour later. "Healer Driscoll," he said, holding out a hand to shake Marlowe's. His grip was firm.

"Hi," said Marlowe, unsure whether he needed to introduce himself or not.

"As you're of age," he said, "we can speak alone if you'd prefer. Or I can get your parents. They're waiting in the hallway."

"They can come in," he said. He shut his eyes. He did not want to look at his mother anymore. He didn't want her to know how much she had scared him. It had hurt, seeing her cry. He did not regret his decision. He did not want anyone else to make him feel he should.

When they were all assembled, Marlowe carefully looking only at the healer, a kind-faced man with very light eyes, Healer Driscoll began to explain. "Now, I understand your condition is not a surprise to you, which is excellent. However, I do regret to say, as I'm sure you know, that there is no cure, at this point in time, for lycanthropy. Naturally, we've sealed the wound with powdered silver and dittany. It looks to be nearly healed already, so it shouldn't give you any more trouble, though it will likely scar. What I want to discuss, is your future."

He did not stop to ask if Marlowe had questions, or to confirm that he was following.

"As you can imagine, going back to Hogwarts would certainly be a great risk-"

Marlowe could not help interrupting him. "I've got to go back to Hogwarts," he said. "I've almost finished. I've got- I've got N.E.W.T.'s."

"Which I'm sure," said Healer Driscoll, "you will excel at. You'll stay here with us for a month, of course."

"A month?" Marlowe interrupted again, sitting up quickly. The healer looked at him in such a way that made it perfectly clear letting Marlowe rise was against his better judgment. "I can't stay here a whole month. I've got Quidditch. There's a game in two weeks. There are scouts coming." His heart had started to beat very fast, not at the thought of missing a quidditch game, but at the thought of potentially never playing Quidditch again. Would the pro teams still want him now? He had never heard of a werewolf player before.

"Unfortunately, it is standard protocol to keep newly infected lycanthropic victims in hospital care for a full month to help ease the psychological transition, as well as to ensure that your first full moon happens in a safe and controlled environment."

Marlowe felt very ill all of the sudden. He clenched his teeth shut and took a deep breath through his nose. He did not want to think about transforming, literally losing his mind, forgetting himself, being capable of really hurting someone, of passing this on. His mother had let out an involuntary noise at these words too, and finally, finally, he looked at her. He felt clammy and cold, but sweat was starting to bead around his forehead.

His father took his mother's hand, drawing small circles with his thumb. Marlowe allowed himself a childish wish that one of them would hold his hand instead. Neither of them seemed to have noticed how sick he suddenly felt.

And still, Healer Driscoll plowed on.

"Now if you do plan to return to school, we'll have to start making the arrangements straightaway, as there will be a fair amount of preparation on their end, for safety. Most importantly, you would not be allowed to return if we cannot find someone capable of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for you. I'm sure the potions master at Hogwarts would be up to the job, but as we don't know that for sure, we should not count on it just yet. We'll also need to prepare a place for you to go at the full moon, just in case. There is, of course, a place already in existence from a past student, however, it's been out of use so long, I think it will take some fixing up."

Marlowe wished he would stop talking about the full moon. He could not stop picturing it the night before, bright and beautiful, maybe the last time he would see it that way. He felt a pressure building in the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth. "Mum," he said," talking right over the healer, who had continued to prattle on about other options, besides returning to school if it proved impossible. Marlowe did not want to hear it.

"I'm sorry," she said to the healer. "Can we just have a few minutes?"

"Of course," he said. He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. It clicked loudly and then Marlowe began to cry for the first time. He tried to hold back. He did not want to cry in front of his dad.

He just wanted someone to hug him, but still his mother remained where she sat.

"Mum," he said again, more urgency in his tone this time. She chewed her lip and watched him, but did not come any closer. "I need you," he said slowly, "to not be scared of me." His voice shook as he struggled to keep the tears in. He sniffed loudly. "Because, _I'm _scared of me. And that's enough."

Finally, she stood, going to sit on the edge of his bed, and pulled him into her arms.

Marlowe looked at his dad over his mom's shoulder.

"We're not," said his father. "I'm proud of you."

Marlowe managed to smile a little bit, just for a second. He knew his dad was proud of him - proud of his grades and his quidditch captaincy and of him as a son in general. But he wasn't the sort to say it.

Marlowe looked like his dad. He'd inherited his dark, almond eyes and his unruly curls, even his height. But he was much more like his mother: bookish, a little more sensitive than he liked to let on, arrogant and prideful, and a natural born comedian. His dad had been a Gryffindor. Jumping in front of a werewolf to save someone else was maybe the most Gryffindor thing Marlowe had ever done.

"Blind bravery," he said. Marlowe had heard this a thousand times. Blind bravery. You run into the situation you should run out of. Not because it's not stupid to do it, not because you won't get hurt, but because you care. And there are things more important than safety.

Marlowe let go of his mom and sank back down into the bed. He was starting to understand why no one seemed to want him to sit up. Even supported, he had begun to feel a little woozy. His dad came to sit on the other side of the bed. He ruffled Marlowe's hair.

Marlowe was quick to smooth it back down again.

"Must be some girl," he said.

For the second time, Marlowe managed a very small smile. "She is."

* * *

Sean and Evelyn sat in the Great Hall, as far from everyone else as possible. Sean had not slept in his room the night before. With Marlowe missing, it felt like a crime scene. Instead, he and Evelyn had pushed together two couches and she had brought her comforter and pillows downstairs. He had only gone up this morning to change because she had told him he was being ridiculous. It wasn't as though Marlowe was dead, and anyway, he couldn't avoid it forever.

Sean was infuriated that Evelyn could still read the paper that morning. He couldn't imagine getting through a sentence. He could barely eat. He couldn't stop thinking about Caiti. He'd gone to the hospital wing first thing that morning to check on her, but the nurse said she'd already left. He was sure she would not have gone back to the common room and she definitely hadn't come to eat.

"Sean, look at this," said Evelyn.

It was the first time she had spoken since the paper had arrived. She handed him the Daily Prophet, not yet opened past the cover page.

_R.W.W. MINISTRY OFFICIAL RESIGNS_

_Early this morning, Mr. Robert Fenwick, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic resigned from his post suddenly. Fenwick, a registered werewolf, was an instrumental part of the establishment of laws protecting victims of lycanthropy in the workplace._

_Fenwick resigned due to an incident that took place following the second task of the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this Saturday (see pg. 3 for details). Though he assured the Prophet that he took the Wolfsbane potion, as directed, when Fenwick transformed that evening, he was, body and mind, a werewolf. Fenwick was found attacking two students heading back to school after the task finished._

_Both students were reported alive. One remains whole and healthy; the other was bitten and has been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Their identities will not be released to the public._

_When interviewed on his decision to abandon his position, Fenwick was honest and open. "I was infected over twenty years ago and I have never once bitten someone until this weekend. It was, undoubtedly the worst experience of my life, to wake up and to know what I had done. I cannot remain in a position of authority until I have discovered a better way to ensure I am no danger to the people around me."_

_Our reporters asked Fenwick why he was at the task at all, knowing it was a full moon that night. "I left early," he explained. "I had taken my potion earlier, and I had planned a safe place to go, but I never made it there. I never thought anything could happen. The other judges discussed it with me, and we all agreed it would be safe. A thousand times I have taken that potion, prepared exactly the same way each time. Not once has this happened. "_

_Of the potion itself, Mr. Fenwick suspects foul play, though he has yet to present any such evidence. The matter is being investigated thoroughly. In the meantime, Fenwick continues to declare support for the laws he helped establish which allow werewolves to work and associate regularly with uninfected wizards. "This cannot be a setback for people like me. It cannot. Further oppression to an already oppressed people will only cause dissent and subsequent danger."_

_Fenwick's successor at the ministry is yet to be determined._

"He was gone when the task finished," said Sean, putting down the paper. "I should've known it was him. I should've..." But he did not know what he should've done. What would knowing have changed? It was done by the time he arrived.

"How could you have known, Sean? You were thinking about people you love. Of course you wouldn't have been riddling it all out." Evelyn folded the paper up and put it in her bag.

"Well, that was the first task wasn't it? Riddling stuff out."

"Sean," said Evelyn. "It's not your fault."

"I never said it was," he snapped.

"So quit acting like you need to feel sorry for yourself, alright? I know it sucks. But think about how Caiti feels. You have nothing to complain about in comparison."

Sean opened his mouth to argue, but Evelyn cut him off.

"_No, _Sean. I'm not exaggerating. He did this for her. And she didn't ask for it. Just think about how that would feel. What if I had done that for you?"

"Don't," said Sean slowly, "ever do something like that for me."

Evelyn smiled a wry smile and gave his knee a little squeeze.


	22. Dept of Magical Creatures

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Two. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"Caiti!" said Evelyn, and Sean whipped around, following Evelyn's gaze to the door of the great hall. Sure enough, Caiti had just walked in. They had somehow missed her the entire previous day and now, finally, here she was. She looked normal: makeup done, hair pulled back into her usual half ponytail and tied up with her favorite blue bow. He let out a breath of relief and slumped over, elbows propped up on the table with his head in his hands.

"Thank god," he whispered.

"Wait- Caiti, where are you going?" asked Evelyn and Sean snapped his head right back up.

She had already passed them, but she paused and turned around. "To sit with Theo," she said. Her voice, he noticed, sounded tired, a little less animated than usual.

"Theo?" he asked, unable to keep the spite out of his voice. He had resented the fact that Caiti, his own sister, had not wanted him to stay with her on Saturday night, but Theo, who she had barely spoken to all year, had not returned from his sojourn to the hospital wing for almost three hours, well past curfew.

"Yes, is that a problem?" she asked.

"I- I mean-" Sean spluttered. "He's... he's your ex-boyfriend, Caiti."

"Yes," she said.

A bit of color rose in Caiti's cheeks, and he felt Evelyn's hand on his forearm. "Sean," she murmured in warning.

"Yes, he is. Well spotted," snapped Caiti.

"Well don't you think... " said Sean, ignoring Evelyn. He could not help himself. He had finally gotten used to the idea that she and Marlowe were a pair, and now she was just going to ditch him after he saved her life and run back to Theo, who Sean had never trusted? "Don't you think," he repeated, "That maybe he's just... taking advantage of you when you're vulnerable?"

Caiti's lips tightened dangerously and she stomped back to Sean. She sat backwards on the bench next to him, looked him dead in the eye and said, "Theo is my _friend._ And he was there for me when it mattered, alright? So give it a rest, Sean. You might not like him, but I do."

"We tried to be there for you," Sean argued, temper rising.

"Sean," pleaded Evelyn from across the table. "Leave it, okay? What's it matter if she sits with him?"

"_Don't, _Ev. Caiti, we tried to be there. You-"

"You wouldn't listen!" Caiti said, voice rising. Tears were pricking in her eyes again. Sean's stomach twisted with guilt, but he didn't know how to stop. "You wouldn't listen to me. You wanted to talk and I _couldn't. I can't. _Don't you see?"

"So what, you're just going to go back to Theo now, since Marlowe's out of the way? Do you _always _have to have a boyfriend?"

He regretted it instantly. Caiti's jaw dropped open and she just kept blinking at him, the words for how she felt apparently non-existent. Sean rushed to try to explain, though he had no idea how to. "Oh my god... no, Caiti I didn't mean that... I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't..."

She stood up. He saw her chin tuck in and her eyes pinch at both corners as she struggled to suppress the oncoming tears. "I would _never _do that to Marlowe," she spat. Then she was gone. He leaned back, one hand hanging onto the edge of the table, to watch her go. Somewhere in the middle, Caiti dropped her bag on the ground and he saw Theo pull her into a tight hug. He said something to her and - Sean was infuriated to see - Caiti smiled, even laughed a little. She sat up straighter as she pulled away from him, tried to wipe her eyes surreptitiously, and starting spooning scrambled eggs onto her plate.

When he turned back to Evelyn, she just shook her head at him.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked. He felt worse than he had before, if that was possible.

"Just be nice to her," said Evelyn. Sean felt that he did not deserve her patience. She should stormed away from him too.

He pushed his plate away, mostly untouched.

"Hey, listen," she said, lowering her voice. "She knows you care. She knows you didn't meant that. She does. She just needs what someone else can give her, okay?"

"What can Theo give her that I can't? She's my sister, Evelyn."

"I know that. And you're also Marlowe's best friend. Think about it."

* * *

"Here you are, sweetheart," said Mrs. Finnegan, handing Marlowe a piece of paper ripped from a pocket notebook and a blue pen, both dug out of the bottom of her purse. Marlowe had long wondered how she managed to fit so much in there without an undetectable extension charm.

"Where's the ink?" he asked.

"The ink? Inside, of course."

"Oh," said Marlowe. "Right. We use..."

"Quills," she smiled. "Like you're in the dark ages."

He smirked and straightened out the paper so he could write. He had decided to write to Sean to ask him to step in as a temporary captain for the quidditch team and he wanted to be sure he had given him all the necessary information: who would play beater in his absence, where to find the training schedule Marlowe had planned out in his school trunk, and an in depth analysis of what plays and tactics to focus on to match Slytherin's style. He had to ask his mum for more paper three times before he had everything down that he wanted to say.

His hand was killing him, but he had one more letter he wanted to write. He laid the pen atop his fresh piece of paper, folded his arms on the edge of the table he sat at in his hospital room, and thought for a very long time. His mom kept looking up from the game she was playing on her phone with a frown on her face. Finally, feeling pressured to get something down, Marlowe picked up the pen. He still did not know what to say.

_Caiti,_ he wrote. _How are you?_

What did you say to a girl whose life you had just saved? He could not come up with anything that did not sound sappy and out of character. Finally, he just wrote, "Love, Marlowe," at the bottom and folded the paper into fourths.

"I need an owl," said Marlowe.

His mother raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't look at me."

"When's dad coming back?" he asked. He spun the pen around on the table, watching it swerve away from him. It rolled off the edge and she caught it on its way to the ground, smacking it back down on the table.

"Probably not until the morning," she said. "He was going to talk to your headmaster a while after he dropped Elliot off."

"Oh," said Marlowe. He felt uncomfortable whenever any mention of the situation came up, no matter how subtle. It was bad enough that he was stuck in St. Mungo's, a constant reminder of what had happened.

"You wanna play Yahtzee?" she asked. His mother loved games. A few years back, he had tried to teach her how to play Exploding Snap, but he hadn't been able to disagree with her claim that it just wasn't Yahtzee, the go-to game in their house.

"Yeah," he said. He wasn't, truthfully, in the mood. Thinking about Caiti had made him feel a little subdued. But, he felt he had to take care of his mom as much as she had to take care of him. This was not her world. He had to imagine it was almost scarier for her in that way.

"I just want want to mail these first. Isn't there an owl post center upstairs?"

She looked wary. Her experiences venturing outside his room had so far not been pleasant. She had already come back with stories of being sneezed on by a man whose nose had grown as large and purple as an eggplant and a run-in with a woman whose hand had been turned inside out. She had returned on the latter occasion looking very green, and without the food she had promised to bring Marlowe.

"Oh alright," she said. "Give me those."

She took the letters from his hand and pushed off the arms of her chair to stand.

"And don't read them, okay?" said Marlowe.

"I wouldn't dare," she said. She kissed him on the top of the head and said, "Be right back."

When Mrs. Finnegan returned, Marlowe was not alone. Two ministry of magic officials, both outfitted in sleek black robes, were seated at the table.

"Ah," said the blonde woman to Marlowe's right. "This must be who we're waiting for."

Marlowe said nothing. After learning what they had come for, he had asked that they wait for his mum to come back, and refused to engage in any of their small talk.

His mother stopped inside the doorway. "We weren't told there would be any visitors today," she said.

"Important business," said the man dismissively. "Now, as we've just told your son, we are representatives from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. My name is Peter Stein and this is my colleague..."

"Eleanor Lampton," she said, holding her hand out to shake Mrs. Finnegan's. "I understand you're a muggle, so we'll do our best to explain the situation. You might not be so familiar with our laws."

"We won't take much of your time," followed up Mr. Stein. "We've just got a few bits of paperwork to take care of. In essence, your son has been infected with lycanthropy, a blood-borne illness which can only be transferred from person to person by the bite of one already infected. This, I'm sure, you are aware of."

Eleanor Lampton took over here, leaning forward on the table. "Now our laws state that lycanthropes can lead relatively normal lives among the magical community, so long as they take certain precautions. First, all werewolves must register with our commission, which is, of course, the reason we've come here today." She turned to Marlowe specifically now. "You will be required to wear a small pin - nothing cumbersome - which makes you recognizable to other wizards, just in case."

Marlowe glanced at his mother. Her jaw was clamped shut very tightly. He could see the tension in her face. Her hands, clasped in her lap, were actually shaking.

"If you intend to go back to school, and later begin a career, you will have to list your status as a magical creature on all applications and deliver proof that you or someone else can consistently prepare the wolfsbane potion for you to prevent possible accidental attacks."

Neither of them spoke again. Marlowe did not know what to say. He felt belittled and stigmatized. For the first time since everything had happened, he felt ashamed of himself.

His mother seemed to have picked up on the same ideas as Marlowe, because she stood up, all five foot three of her looking dangerous. He saw Peter Stein cower under her glare and she was the only one in the room without a wand.

"Let me get one thing straight," she said. "My son is not a magical creature." Her voice was very low, but her words were sharp and punctuated, snapping at her listeners. "If you want a registration for his safety and for others, by all means, do it!" she said. Her saw her eyes widen, almost hysterical. "But don't you dare call him anything less than human."

Marlowe's cheeks grew red, but he was glad she had said it and not him.

"Of course, ma'am, so sorry," said the woman. There was kindness in her tone but her eyes showed her exasperation. Marlowe slid the papers she had in front of her across the table to himself, and, just because he felt like being spiteful, he used the pen from his letters to fill out the form, ignoring the quill that Mr. Stein offered. He shoved the papers back at them, folded his arms and stared down at his lap.

Neither he nor his mother said goodbye as the two wizards stood up and left, glancing at each other like they were not sure what to do about the situation. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Marlowe stood, crossed the short distance to the bed and crawled under the covers. He rolled onto his side and stared at the ugly portrait opposite him of a fat little man in a red vest.

He felt the mattress lower and then his mum's cool fingers on his back. She leaned down and kissed his head again. "Don't you listen to them, Marlowe," she said. She drew her fingers up and down his back for a long time.

Late that evening when his father stopped by after his visit to the school, he opened his mouth to start talking about the results of his meeting with Professor Osset, but his mother intervened. "Later, okay?" she said.

Mr. Finnegan glanced at Marlowe and then back at his wife. "Oh," he said, "alright. Why? What's up bud?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Marlowe.

The little pin that the ministry wizards had left lay on the table. Marlowe could not bear to put it on yet. And though it was out of sight, he already felt the weight of it, singling him out every day for the rest of his life.

His mother sat on his bedside for a long time, the three of them quiet. He knew his parents were communicating silently behind his back. Eventually, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep so that they could talk. He just did not want to be involved in the conversation.

His mother recapped what had happened in hushed tones.

"Well," said his father softly, "it's insensitive to put it in those terms, but they were just doing their job weren't they? Werewolves are... well they're an odd case certainly, but they've been classified as magical creatures just for ease, you know? It's just standard-"

"He's our _son," _she hissed. Marlowe thought that he had never truly appreciated his mother's odd relation to the magical world before. She had this unusual subjective outlook on the whole thing - both an insider and an outsider.

"I know, of course," said his father. "I know. He's- of course."

"What about you, what'd you find out?"

"Well the potion's no problem. We'll have to pay for the ingredients, but they'll have it made for him. The headmaster's not sure if the old Shrieking Shack is stable though. Apparently after the Battle of Hogwarts it was never repaired with the rest of the castle, but it went through some serious damage, and it's just been left there all these years."

Marlowe highly doubted his mother had any idea what he was talking about. But she went along with it and said, "What are the other options?"

"He thinks they might be able to build a little place somewhere in the forest, nothing fancy - he'll only be there a few months, now."

They were silent for a few minutes, then he felt his mum's hand smoothing down the back of his shirt again. She pulled the covers up a few inches. "I can't believe he's in his last year already," she said.

"He's grown up so much this year," said his dad. "I just keep thinking... even a year ago... he wouldn't have had the guts to do that."

They were quiet again. His dad broke the silence. "I met her. The girl."

Marlowe's eyes popped open accidentally. He squeezed them back shut, hoping neither of them had noticed. "She was in Ravenclaw tower when I brought Elliot back. Real sweet girl. Came up and gave Elliot a big hug and introduced herself."

"I wish I could meet her," said his mum.

Marlowe could not stand it. His desire to know that Caiti was okay far outweighed his desire not to let his parents know that he was not actually asleep. He did not roll over to face them, but he asked, "How is she?" He gripped the corner of his pillow.

His father didn't speak right away so Marlowe rolled onto his back to look at him. "How is she, dad?"

"She's okay. Seemed sad I suppose."

Marlowe frowned.

"She didn't seem like she wanted to talk about it. But she said she was feeling better."

"Oh," said Marlowe. "Okay." He rolled back over to continue moping.

He felt his dad's calloused fingers on his upper arm, two firm pats. "She was worried about you, bud."

"Yeah," said Marlowe. "I know."

* * *

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team assembled in the locker room before their practice that Wednesday. Clara and Elodie sat side by side on the front bench. Elliot, stood in the back corner with his head down. He had only just returned to school the previous afternoon. Sean tried very hard to ignore Theo, sitting up straight and attentive. He had been trying to get on Sean's good side since Monday morning, to prove that he was not just taking advantage of Caiti, but Sean was skeptical.

No one had thought they would continue to practice without Marlowe. As he tried to think what to tell them, Sean had never truly realized how relieved he was not to have been made captain in the first place. Standing up in front of them all was nerve-wracking, made worse by the fact that none of them felt they should be here.

"Alright, uh... listen. I've talked to Marlowe, and, he definitely wants us to play," Sean began. "And... he's uh... he's sent me all his plans and stuff. Charlie, you'll be filling in for him," he said, with a nod at an auburn haired boy sitting to Elodie's right.

No one spoke. The team's usual banter was gone. Sean pulled up a plastic chair and sat down opposite his team. "Hey... guys. This sucks. And it feels really wrong to be here without Marlowe, but it's really important to him that we still play. And that we win. So let's... let's try and pull ourselves together. And do it for him, right? We can't win if we just... sit around and wish things were different. And I think that if we lose to Slytherin, Marlowe will personally murder me, so..."

He trailed off, hoping for some support. Marlowe was a good captain, a comfortable leader, able to skirt the fine line between friend and authority easily. Sean was much more comfortable being the role model from afar than actually telling people what to do.

"So what's the plan?" asked Clara.

Sean half smiled in relief, and began to explain.

Caiti arrived back in the common room late on Thursday night. She had been spending every evening in the potions classroom, heading down straight after classes finished, running up to the great hall for a quick dinner, and then returning to work on her homework in the quiet. She had not told anyone where she was going. She knew Theo, who she had been spending most of her time with, was curious, but he did not ask. There was only one person Caiti had ever told about her habit of hanging out there, and that person was Marlowe.

She planned, as usual, to go straight to bed, avoiding talking to Sean or Evelyn who were walking on needles around her, scared anything they said might tip her over the edge. All she wanted was to be treated normally, and that was why Theo was the perfect person to hang around with. He did not know how to address the situation, so he talked to her about homework and quidditch and let her joke around with him and his friends, and made her forget - sort of - for the short bursts of time that she could stand to be around people, that anything was wrong.

Tonight he was seated in a chair she had to pass on the way to her dorm. She smiled at him as she walked past, not intending to stop.

"Hey, uh Caiti?"

She paused. "Yeah?"

"Never mind," he said.

"No, what's up?" she asked, tipping her head a little to one side.

"No, it's..." he shook his head. "It's probably insensitive. I shouldn't. I just had a question... need some advice."

"Go for it," said Caiti.

He looked up at her for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Okay, well..." He gave her this nervous smile, but stopped talking again.

"What, Theo?" asked Caiti. She laughed a little, starting to smile too.

He looked up at the ceiling, just his eyes, and took a deep breath like he was preparing to admit something very embarrassing. "I really fancy Clara Hall - you know from quidditch? - and I want to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with me for Valentine's Day this weekend, but I don't know how to do it, please help." He spoke very quickly, all in one breath.

Caiti's mouth fell open. "Theo!" she said. "Aww!"

"Stop," he said, turning bright red. "I feel weird asking you, because... you know."

"Don't," she said. "We're friends. But seriously, let's think about this. I don't know her that well so tell me about her. What do you like?"

"Well she's shorter than me... that's one thing. And she's blonde."

"Oh my god, Theo. I know what she _looks_ like. What do you like about _her?" _Caiti demanded. She sat herself down in an open armchair opposite him, leaning forward, elbows and forearms on her knees.

"Well she makes me very uncomfortable," he said. Caiti burst out laughing, and he waved his hand at her. "Stop, stop, stop. No, like... in a good way. I can't explain it. Like she's so self-assured, you know? She just doesn't care what you think. She's like a little firecracker. Because she's so tiny, but she's so strong and like... I'm pretty sure she could lift me up and body slam me if she wanted, which is terrifying, but like... also really cool? And I kind of love it when she shows off, which is a lot. And sometimes I think maybe she likes me too, because she tries to knock me off my broom with the bludgers a lot in practice."

"Wow," said Caiti, narrowing her eyes as she continued to laugh under her breath. "Sounds like she's smitten."

"No, no I just... I don't know how to explain. She's just really cool."

"I'm just teasing," Caiti smiled. "But you know what? I don't think you need to come up with anything special. Just ask her. If you're right, and pelting you with bludgers is her way of saying she's into you... then she likes you how you are. So don't try to like... be all tough. Just be you. Just ask her."

"Are you implying that I'm not tough?" he asked, grinning.

"Course not," said Caiti. "But you're still a teddy bear, remember?"

One side of Theo's lips quirked up. Caiti had used to tell him that all the time. "Thanks Caiti-Cat," he said.

She felt a little jolt in her stomach. No one but Theo had ever called her that, and she had not heard it since they had broken up. "No problem. Go get her."

She stood up to leave, but Theo started to rise too. "Hang on," he said. "Did you... were you planning to go to Hogsmeade? I bet... I mean I have to ask first... but I bet she wouldn't mind if you came."

Caiti smiled and shook her head. "That's okay. I uhm... I don't think I can walk past there yet."

"Oh," said Theo quickly. "Oh, right, of course. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Caiti patted him on the shoulder as she passed, heading upstairs for real this time. "Go ask her."

Upstairs, seated cross-legged on her bed, Caiti opened the letter she had received at breakfast that morning. She had read it through about a hundred times. It was, after all, very short. How are you, he had asked. How are you? That was all. She did not know what to say. She needed to see him. Sean had gotten a three page, very detailed letter. Caiti did not know what all he had written about, but it was hard not to be jealous. She traced over the word 'love' with her index finger before she put the note away again.

She could not possibly explain how she felt in a letter. She could not say thank you in writing, could not tell him what it had done to her to see him that way, to prove how much she missed him. She curled up on her side under her covers, eyes open, and tried to convince herself his letter had been so short because he felt the same way, that none of this could be put in words on a little piece of paper.

* * *

The common room was packed on Friday night, louder than on the weeknights because no one was doing any homework. Evelyn heard a lot of talk about next week's quidditch match. A bunch of second years by the window were holding a wizard's chess tournament which was getting rowdy. She kept glancing their way in case she needed to break out the prefect's badge.

"I feel like crap," said Sean dramatically. Evelyn rolled her eyes at him. They were sitting at a sofa facing the tall windows of the tower, overlooking a deep blue sky. The trees were black and shadowed in the dark. The night was starless and cloudy, only the thin light of the waning moon hanging in the sky.

"Don't beat yourself up," she said. He had been acting this way all week and it was driving her mad.

"Caiti won't even talk to me," he complained. "She can't actually have to meet with Professor Pym on a Friday night."

"She does have to," said Evelyn. "They're working on some potion. She's been going every week since before Christmas."

"Well... why won't she talk to me any other time?"

"She's just upset. You made a mistake. She felt hurt. She's already dealing with a lot, and... I guess dealing with that isn't high on her priority list at the moment. She'll come around. She can't stay mad at you forever."

Sean sighed and tipped his head back against the back of the couch. He shut his eyes. "My mum said she hasn't written at all. My parents are freaked out. I tried to ask her to write them, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"Want me to talk to her?" Evelyn asked.

"Would you?" asked Sean, sitting up quickly.

"Of course," she said.

Sean leaned forward, face in his hands. He slid his fingers to his temples, pulling at the skin, and Evelyn smoothed her hand across his back a few times, coming to rest in the middle of his spine.

"She's stressing me out more than Marlowe. He seems fine in his letter. All quidditch, like normal."

"I'll talk to her later, okay?" said Evelyn.

He nodded sitting up. "Yeah. Thanks." Evelyn rubbed his back again for a few seconds before she let her arm drop.

"Wow," said Professor Pym, giving the cauldron a stir. "Wow. This is a huge improvement."

Caiti smiled, really smiled, for the first time all week. "I practiced every day this week," she breathed. She ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

Professor Pym looked up, surprised. "Really," she said.

Caiti nodded. "I uhm... I thought maybe if I could learn quicker..." she trailed off.

"Of course," said her professor. "Mr. Finnegan is your friend."

Caiti nodded again, her smile faltering.

"Well, it's not quite safe to drink yet. But it's close. Nearly there. Really impressive, Caitlyn. I don't think you understand how gifted you are. I would never normally let a student try this potion."

Caiti flushed with pride, looking down at the green liquid. It was still too dark. She was having trouble timing it all exactly right so that it didn't overcook. But in their last meeting it had been almost black. At this rate of progress, she was sure she could get it right - perfect - in the next couple of tries.

"Alright, go ahead and go, enjoy your night, alright? We'll meet again next week."

Caiti began to pack up her things, but before she stood up she stopped and looked at her professor.

"Uhm... Professor?"

She looked back at Caiti.

"Do you... I mean.. I don't know what you've heard about everything that happened... "

"I've heard it all," she said quietly.

"Right," said Caiti. "I just wondered... I want to say thank you... and I don't really know- I thought maybe if I could... if I could make this... and help, you know... do you think...?"

"If it were me," said Professor Pym, her voice low, "it would be more than enough."

"Okay," said Caiti, relieved. She stood. At the door, Professor Pym called her name and Caiti turned around again, hand on the doorknob.

"You've got a good friend there," she said, frowning slightly. "And so does he."

"Caiti?" Evelyn peeked inside Caiti's room. She had just seen her walk upstairs without stopping to talk to anyone.

"Oh, hi Ev," said Caiti. This surprised Evelyn. They had barely spoken all week. She had expected some pushback at least, but Caiti looked more cheerful than she had seen her since Saturday night.

"Hi." Evelyn just stood there, not sure, now that Caiti was acting this way, what to say to her. She didn't want to be the reason she grew upset all over again. "How was your meeting?" she asked finally.

"Great," said Caiti. She sat down on her bed, cross-legged.

"What are you working on?" she asked.

"Oh, it's- it's a secret," Caiti decided.

Evelyn decided not to push her. "Oh. Well... I'm glad it went well."

Caiti nodded. Evelyn just stood there, not sure how to change the subject.

"Did you need something?" Caiti asked after a while.

"Yeah. Can I sit down?" She tugged on the ends of her hair.

"Sure."

Evelyn came and sat on the bed next to her. "Listen," she said, voice soft. She was so scared of upsetting her. "Sean is..." Immediately at Sean's name, Evelyn saw Caiti's face harden. "I'm sorry-" she said quickly. "I know you're mad at him. He messed up. I told him so. But he's really worried about you, Caiti. You know he loves you so much. And I think he feels a little responsible for you."

"I can take care of myself," said Caiti. Her eyes were dark and slightly narrowed.

"Of course. I'm not saying he's your parent, I'm just saying, as your older brother, I think he feels like he has to look out for you, whether or not you want him to. And he feels so bad about what he said. You know he didn't meant it, Caiti."

"I don't want to talk about this right now," said Caiti, her voice tight.

"Okay, we don't have to, but just... will you please think about talking to him? He'll leave you alone if that's what you want, but I think it would do you both good to... talk about it. You're the two people Marlowe's closest to, you know?" Evelyn stood up again. Caiti sat in stony silence, glaring at Miriam's bed with her lips pressed tightly together.

Evelyn took a few tentative steps away. "Oh... and Caiti? Write your parents, okay? They're worried."

Caiti didn't respond, so Evelyn walked out, shutting the door with the handle turned all the way so it wouldn't click when it shut.

Outside the door she let out a heavy breath, shut her eyes for a second, and then continued up the spiral staircase to her own dormitory.


	23. Ravenclaw vs Slytherin

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Three. Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin

"Theo!" Caiti called. He stopped just by the door where he and Clara, with her white blonde hair pulled back in a low, messy ponytail, were just about to leave for Hogsmeade. Caiti thought she seemed nervous, though she was hiding it well. She wore a blue puffy vest over her magenta turtleneck and jeans. Her wand stuck out of her back pocket and her wallet, emblazoned with the Applebee Arrows symbol, hung from her wrist.

"Sorry-" She thrust her hand out to him, palm up, holding three galleons. "Could you do me a huge favor?"

He glanced at her open hand but did not take the money. "I can do you a favor without you paying me," he said, frowning.

"Don't be stupid. I want you to pick something up for me." She grabbed his hand and put the galleons in it. "Some of that crystallized pineapple from Honeydukes," she said. Then she added, "It's Marlowe's favorite."

"Oh, yeah," he looked at the money in his hand before he closed his fist around it. "Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks," said Caiti, all business. Then she glanced at Clara and back at him and said, "Have fun."

Theo nodded, half-smiled at her, and they turned to go.

Caiti waited till he had gone, and then she headed out the door herself, down to the potions classroom.

When Theo returned late that afternoon, Caiti was sitting by the fireplace, enjoying the fact that almost no one was there. She had just finished playing a round of Gobstones with Elliot, who was too young for Hogsmeade, but then he and his friends had gone off to the library and she'd been left almost alone. When he and Clara entered, she watched the two of them say their "I had a nice time's" and Theo gave her an awkward hug. "Uhm... see you at practice," he said, holding up a hand as she headed upstairs. She turned her head and smiled at him on her way.

Theo stood there a minute watching her go. He ran a hand through his hair and then he nodded smiling to himself.

He spotted Caiti in one of the comfy armchairs and headed over to her. "Hey," he said, plopping down in another chair.

"How was it?" Caiti asked.

"Good. Yeah. It was really good. She's cool."

Caiti smiled and tucked her knees up to her chest. "Good," she said. "I'm glad."

"Oh-" Theo fished inside a Hogsmeade bag for a minute before pulling out the crystallized pineapple. He clapped it into his opposite hand once and then held it out to her. "This is the right stuff?"

"Perfect," said Caiti. "Thanks." She smiled a little as she took it, but it didn't last long.

"D'you want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

Caiti hesitated before she nodded. The day had not been a particularly good one.

"Kay," said Theo. He stood again. "Oh, almost forgot," he added, searching inside the shopping bag again. This time, he pulled out a chocolate frog. "I got this for you, too."

Caiti rolled her lips together and blinked hard. The corners of her mouth quivered, not sure if they wanted to smile or turn down and cry. She reached out for the box. "Thank you."

She looked down until he left and then she tipped her head to rest on her hand and let herself cry for the first time since Monday. She had never thought of herself as a Valentine's Day girl. It was, in her opinion, a bit of a stupid holiday. But she had watched Sean and Evelyn leave that morning, Evelyn all dolled up, and then Theo and Clara going out for the first time, and all these others passing cards and candies to each other, and it hit her that, more than anything, she just missed Marlowe. She hated what had happened to him, hated that he would have to deal with it for the rest of his life, but what bothered her more than anything was simply his absence. He was her best friend, and without him, she felt like she was just adding herself into other groups she didn't belong to. Her go-to person, her home person, was not here.

Caiti cried ceaselessly for a few minutes, not sobbing, really, just lots of quiet tears. Once she had calmed herself enough that she could see straight, she pulled out a piece of parchment and one of her favorite self-inking quills, and wrote a very short letter, only slightly longer than the one Marlowe had sent her.

_Marlowe,_

_I'm fine. I miss you. I really, really miss you._

_Love,_

_Caiti_

She wiped underneath her eyes with the back of her hand, and began collecting her things. If she made it up to the owlery in the next half an hour, he would get her note and the candies before the end of the night.

"Eat fast," said Mrs. Finnegan as soon as she had set the lunch tray she had just brought up from the cafeteria on his lap. Marlowe was already sick of the food choices at St. Mungo's which were not horrible, but were not plentiful either.

His mother started pouring little packets of dressing over the Asian salad she was eating for the fourth time that week. She was staying in a nearby value hotel, because she could not apparate to and from home and work the way his dad did, and the one floo-powder induced trip she had taken the night of the attack had been, to use her words, "almost as bad as finding out that Marlowe was in the hospital at all." This meant that she was spending all her time at Marlowe's bedside, desperately trying to entertain him and keep his spirits up, eating the same select options he was stuck with for the month.

"Why?" he asked, crushing up a packet of crackers to dump into his soup.

"We're going out," she said. Marlowe sat up. He had barely left his room in over a week and it was driving him mad. He had never felt so sedentary.

"We're allowed to?" he asked. "I mean- _I'm _allowed to?"

"I asked for permission," she said. "And they agreed it might do you good not to be cooped up the whole time."

"Where are we going?" he asked. He honestly didn't care. He thought going to the drug store to pick up a new toothbrush would have been exhilarating after so many days stuck in this nearly empty white room. "Why do we have to hurry?"

"It's a surprise," she said.

Marlowe began to shovel down his soup.

As soon as he scraped the bowl clean, he jumped up from his little table and headed for the bathroom to take care of the mess on his head. He had sort of let himself go for the week, with no Caiti there to impress and too many other things occupying his brain. His mother did not care how he looked.

He brushed his teeth and attempted to comb some life back into his bed-flattened hair. It was not so much curly today as it was simply not there was not much he could do, and anyway, he did not expect to see anyone he knew.

Back out in the bedroom, he crossed to the nightstand to pick up his wand. He tucked it into the back pockets of his jeans, glancing down at the box of pineapple and the short note from Caiti. The first time he had read it, he had smiled. She missed him. The second time, he had felt anxious; 'fine' was never the truth. Still, he liked having something there of hers, something she had touched, something she had intended only for him.

He was still trying to come up with something good to say back to her. It was so much easier to write Sean, who he had been pestering two or three times a day with lengthy analyses of where he thought the team should be. Marlowe was always prepared to talk quidditch.

He was still thinking about Caiti's letter ten minutes later as they headed out of the building. "Mum?" he said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she said. She had already dug her phone out of her purse and was holding down the power button to shut it down. The longer she spent at St. Mungo's, the more often her phone had been going haywire from the surplus of magic around her. She was no longer receiving any messages or emails until she was well outside the building and had restarted the phone.

While Marlowe tried to think how to frame his question, the phone turned back on and began buzzing and dinging madly with all the notifications she had missed.

"How come," Marlowe began finally. He shoved his hands into his pockets. It was at least bearable outside, but it was still very cold in the February wind. "How come it's always been so easy to talk to Caiti ever since I met her and now I don't know what to say to her?"

His mother looked up from the emails she was scrolling through while she walked. "Sweetheart, you as good as proposed."

Marlowe was taken aback by this. "No I- what?"

She laughed. "I'm kidding. I just mean, you did something for her that was huge, and that most new relationships don't get tested with. And so it's become serious. You did something that moved you beyond that honeymoon phase, 'this is all fun' feeling at the beginning of a relationship. That changes things."

"How come it doesn't feel good?" he asked, frowning. He felt uncomfortable asking his mom these sorts of things. They had never talked about girls before. But he did not know who else to ask.

"A strong relationship isn't just being happy and having fun all the time. There are things that don't feel good, too. Sacrifices and disagreements and things that are just hard to work out how to navigate. You'll be fine, Marlowe. If I had just saved your father's life, I don't think I'd know what to say to him either, and we've been married almost twenty five years."

Marlowe didn't say anything else for a long time. They continued to walk, Marlowe looking to her for cues on which way to turn; he still had no idea where they were going. They stopped on a street corner to wait for the traffic to pass. "How come you know so much about this stuff?"

"I was popular with the boys at your age," she said immediately. She grinned at him.

Marlowe made a brave attempt at his old cheeky smile when he asked, "Then how'd you end up with dad?"

She laughed first, but then her face softened into something more thoughtful. "I realized," she said slowly, "that we were both willing to give up the ease of living the same lifestyle for each other. We have two... two totally different worlds, you know? And I still wanted to marry him, and he still wanted to marry me." She gave Marlowe a pointed look as they began walking again. "It got serious. And it changed things."

Marlowe had never thought much into the future before apart from playing quidditch. He had not spent time daydreaming about his future wife and family. Still, he had a sudden warm, but unspecific feeling deep inside, something just out of reach, like a tickle on your back that you can't locate. He didn't know much about his future, especially not after recent events. The one thing he knew was that he wanted Caiti around.

"Here we are," she said suddenly. Marlowe almost kept walking.

He stopped abruptly and looked up at the neon marquee which read "Lucy's Solar Theatre" in great pink letters. Beneath that was a white board with three slats cutting it in long sections, inside which black lettered tiles had been slid inside to form the words of the pictures currently playing.

"There's a new Marvel movie out," said his mum, watching him with her arms crossed over her waist. "I know you liked some of those."

Marlowe nodded once, smiling at the ground. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and hugged her, something he had not done often enough. "Thanks Mum," he said. It took a few seconds before she put her arms around him too, but when she did, she gave him a tight squeeze and kept her arm around him as they walked inside to buy tickets.

* * *

The morning of the Quidditch match against Slytherin, Sean got one last letter from Marlowe. The envelope, this time, was much thinner than the previous dozen he had received, all of which had been lengthy and in depth. He slit the top of the envelope open and shook out the single bit of paper inside.

_YOU BETTER FREAKING WIN I SWEAR DON'T YOU DARE LOSE TO THOSE FREAKING SNAKES_

Sean laughed and passed the letter to Evelyn who was frowning at him.

"Really excellent grammar," she said, raising her eyebrow. She passed the letter back to Sean. "I wonder how he really feels."

"Yeah," Sean said, still grinning. "It's almost like he wants us to win or something."

The match was set for one o'clock that afternoon and though it was still bitterly cold, the sun had poked through the gray February sky for the first time in weeks. Sean would have felt downright cheerful if he had not just realized that this would be the first match he ever played without Marlowe there. He had gotten on the team the year after Marlowe had. While other members of the team had come and gone, Marlowe was the one consistent thing about Quidditch.

Sean passed around Marlowe's note while they all waited in the locker room to go out onto the pitch, sure that he would not otherwise be able to impress the true seriousness of the call. No one was surprised by the intensity of Marlowe's desire that they win, but he was pleased to see that they all took it a little more seriously than they might have done. No one wanted to disappoint him in the present circumstances.

At five till, the captains were called out to the pitch to shake hands before the rest of the team joined them. No one moved, Sean included. Everyone looked at him and he snapped out of his head. "What?"

Clara shoved him off the bench where he sat. "That's _you! Go!"_

"Oh," he said suddenly. "Oh, yeah." Feeling uncomfortable - he had never done this before - he hurried outside, hoping the other captain was not already waiting for him. He met the Slytherin captain, Zachary Mullins, at center field. Mullins was a big, burly sort of guy with dark bags under his eyes at all times. He nearly crushed Sean's hand when they shook, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles actually cracked.

It ached as he walked back to meet the rest of the team. He shook it out and flexed it a few times, gripping his fingers in and out of a fist. Theo stood next to him as they mounted their brooms. "You all right?" he muttered.

"Yeah," Sean said, shaking his head. "Fine."

The referee released the snitch, and Theo's interest in Sean's dilemma was gone, eyes flicking around in the direction it had flown, hoping for a head start on the Slytherin seeker once they were in the air.

"Players, mount your brooms," called the ref. They all got into position, and then the whistle was blown, and Sean kicked off from the ground, zooming over to the goalposts.

The quaffle was released and the game began. Slytherin immediately took possession, which gave Sean no time to worry about the fact that his right hand was still pulsing unpleasantly. He released his grip on the broom and tried to shake it out again while he watched the oncoming chasers preparing to make the first goal of the match.

"Get yourself together," he mumbled to himself. He saw the center chaser's arm prepare to throw left and he shot off towards the ring, reaching out his hand for the quaffle. It whizzed straight at him, but when it hit his hand, instead of gripping and pressing it towards his body to prepare to throw it back to his own team, like he would normally have done, he fumbled and knocked it through the ring. He was so shocked, he just hung there in mid air gaping blankly at the place where it had gone through.

"What was that?" called Elodie as she flew past to scoop up the falling Quaffle.

"I had it!" shouted Sean defensively. All around them, the Slytherin cheers were unbearable. Thirty seconds into the game and then were already ten-nothing. Elodie and the other chasers were already at the Slytherin end of the pitch when Sean finally pulled himself together and leaned to his right to swing back over to his middle hoop. He had never done something like that before. It had literally been in his hand.

Down at the other end of the pitch, he watched Elodie pass to Eddie Kirkland who tried to feint and throw it through the opposite goal it looked like he was aiming for. Unfortunately, their keeper, a girl in Caiti's year called Marilyn, seemed to have expected this and she saved it. The Ravenclaw crowd let out a great groan in unison, but it was drowned out by the renewed cheers of the Slytherins. Sean tried not to picture Marlowe's face if he saw the direction the match was headed, if this rocky start was any indication.

For the second time, the Slytherin chasers sped towards him, and Sean steeled himself to block their goal. The quaffle soared towards the hoops and he made to grab it, but again, he found he was not able to put enough pressure on the ball to grab. He let go with his left hand in a very stupid attempt to save it at the last second, but he had not gripped the broom hard enough with his knees and the broom lurched forward under his imbalance.

"Twenty-zero to Slytherin!" called out the announcer. The silver and green supporters in the crowd roared with delight.

The fourth time the Slytherins came flying towards his goals, he was so determined to stop them scoring again that he made to simply smack the ball away without even trying to aim at any of his teammates. Pain and instant regret reverberated from his fingers all the ways up his arm the moment he did so. He managed to keep the ball out of the hoop, but he was in so much shock at the pain in his hand that he barely noticed that he had sent the quaffle straight back at the Slytherin player who had thrown it in in the first place. When he made a second attempt at the goal, Sean did not even try to stop it. He stared at his hand in disbelief.

"Oh my god," he said out loud, looking up just as they all reached the other end of the pitch. "He broke my hand."

Sean looked up at Theo, praying that he had seen the snitch, but both he and the other seeker were circling high above the game, peering around for a glint of gold that they had not yet spotted.

He was counting on the Ravenclaw chasers to make some of their usual spectacular goals, but although they had managed several strong plays, they had somehow not yet scored.

A while later, as goal number seven soared towards him, Sean thought he'd try and used his left hand instead, but as soon as he tried to grip the broom with his injured right hand, he realized he had not thought the situation through thoroughly. Another sharp pain wracked through him and distracted him from his efforts.

"Call timeout!" yelled Marcie Pritchard as she hurried away with the quaffle tucked under her arm.

Sean quickly raised his hand and signaled to the ref, wondering why on earth he had not done this sooner.

The team flew down and huddled together. Sean did not waste any time before he sought Clara and Charlie's faces. "You two," he said. "Get the bludgers and smack the _crap _out of Mullins. I'm not kidding."

Clara laughed, looking like she was concerned for his sanity. "Why just Mullins?"

"Because he broke my _freaking _hand, that's why," said Sean, trying hard to find the humor in his situation. The more he thought about it, the more his hand really hurt.

The team was in an uproar. "You have to go to the hospital wing!" shouted Charlie.

"He did that on purpose! You have to tell someone!" said Elodie.

"QUIET!" Sean yelled over all of them. "Listen, we're running out of time." He glanced at the ref, hoping she didn't blow the whistle before he finished. "We are not forfeiting to Slytherin. I'll deal with this after the match. Theo," he turned to look at him, "Get the snitch. Like... yesterday. _Do not _let them get up to 150 points before you do. You _have _to catch it before we can't catch up. And you three," he turned now to the chasers, "You're doing great, just... keep trying to get a goal, give him some extra time. I'm not going to be able to save anything with this hand so... it's up to you guys."

The whistle sounded and they all put their hands in - Sean switching out his right for his left. "Ravenclaw on three?" said Marcie.

Clara shook her head. "Mm-mm. Finnegan."

Sean felt a little pull in his stomach and he nodded. "One... " he said. Everyone else joined in for "Two... Three... FINNEGAN!" And then they jumped on their brooms and flew up to resume play.

Ravenclaw was in possession. Perhaps it only took understanding the dilemma there were in, because, finally, Marcie scored a goal. The Ravenclaws in the stands, who had had absolutely nothing to cheer about so far, were louder than Sean had ever heard them. A chant of Marcie's name broke out and lasted for quite a while, only dying out when Sean let another Slytherin goal through, bringing the Slytherin lead back to seventy points.

Above the match, Theo zig zagged back and forth, a picture of perfect focus, but neither seeker seemed to have spotted the snitch yet. Sean had to hope that if the Slytherin seeker caught sight of it first, Theo's speed would be enough to beat him to it.

Back out in the main area of play, Sean was relieved to see Charlie whacking bludgers at a wider selection of Slytherin players, because Clara had taken his words literally and was aiming - with a bright and mischievous smile on her face - exclusively at Mullins, something which, if not for Charlie's judiciousness, might have gotten them a penalty: the last thing they needed.

Still, he appreciated her enthusiasm.

When the score was up one hundred and thirty to twenty, and Sean had just begun to feel hopeless - as well as a little lightheaded (the pain in his hand was getting significantly worse thanks to another attempted and failed save) - Theo shot straight in front of him, finally after something. The other seeker saw too late and tried to zoom after him to catch up, but Theo had a solid lead on him. Sean completely ignored the oncoming quaffle as he watched Theo's progress, letting one last goal slip in. Theo leaned forward on his broom now, arm outstretched, and then he pulled up, slowed, and held his fist up, the snitch closed inside it.

Sean threw his head back in relief as the announcer called out "That's the snitch! Ravenclaw wins 170 to 140! Don't think anyone saw that coming."

Sean flew to ground instantly, not joining in his team's huddle in midair. He clambered off his broom and started booking it up to the castle. Evelyn had evidently been the first one out of the stands because he had not made it far before he heard her call his name. "Sean!" she said. "Sean! Where are you going?"

"Hospital wing," he said firmly, and he turned and began to walk again. She kept running until she had caught up, jogging into step beside him.

"What happened?" she asked. "You never miss-"

"Broke my hand," he said, cutting her off. He had been concerned with getting his team to rally and trying not to further injure his hand during the match, but now it was over, he did not much want to talk about what had to be the most humiliating quidditch experience of his life. It did not help that he was school champion. No one would let him live this down. He had not saved a single goal.

"What? How?" asked Evelyn, looking around him at the hand he was holding gingerly in his left arm.

Sean pursed his lips and his eyes flashed before he answered. "Believe it or not," he said shortly, "it happened shaking hands with Zachary Mullins."

"It did not," said Evelyn.

"It did too," he said. They pushed through the oak front doors and he started up the marble staircase.

"Well..." said Evelyn, clearly trying hard to make light of the situation, "I mean... you did win."

"_They_ won," said Sean. "Not me."

"You don't have to tell Marlowe the details," she said. "And anyway, you could get their captain in serious trouble for that. No one breaks someone's hand by shaking it. That was on purpose.

"Oh Marlowe'll find out," said Sean. "And I am not giving freaking Mullins the satisfaction of knowing I told on him. It's fine."

They walked on in silence and he saw Evelyn start to speak a few times and think better of it. Finally she said. "Sean, no one will blame you... they saw you try and save the goals. You were right there, every time. And if you tell them you were hurt..."

"They'll ask the same thing you did. Why didn't you tell. Ev, if I tell, I have to go to the hospital wing right away, without finishing the game. And that means we forfeit."

"You could've put Elliot in."

"Elliot has never played keeper in his life. Marlowe's had him training as a chaser and a seeker."

"You don't have to snap at me about it," she said quietly. They were nearing the hospital wing now. Sean's stomach turned over.

He stopped outside the door and shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I'm just-"

"Frustrated," she filled in. "I know."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She shook her head. "Forget it, come on. Let's go get you taken care of."

The second they walked through the door, Raigan took one look at his Quidditch robes, smiled, and said, "There's always one."

She pointed him to a bed and he sat on the edge so she could take a look.

"I think I broke my hand," he said. Evelyn perched herself on the edge of the bed next to him, looking down at her hands in her lap. He still felt guilty about how he'd talked to her. He hated to leave things unresolved. It was why the situation with Caiti bothered him so much. He could already hardly stand leaving it with Evelyn, and it had been all of two minutes since they had argued.

Raigan poked around his hand for a while, bending and straightening each finger. He winced when she asked him to spread all his fingers apart, and again when she made him close them into a fist.

"Hm," she said, taking a hold of it again. "You kept playing after you initially felt it hurt." It was not a question.

"Uh... yeah," Sean admitted.

"Well, you've certainly broken two of your metacarpals," she said, pointing them out. "But I think you've given yourself some muscle tearing when you tried to keep going. Compensation injuries are usually worse than the first one. It's why you should never ignore things that don't feel right. The bones I can fix. The muscles will take more than just one spell."

She pulled out her wand. "You can... you can fix it though right?" Sean asked. If his hand was permanently damaged because of Mullins...

"Of course. _Episkey." _There was a loud crack as his bones snapped back together at the break. Sean jumped and opened his mouth in a silent complaint, but then the pain lessened significantly. "You'll just have to stay here about an hour, maybe a little more."

"Hang tight," she said, giving his shoulder a little pat. It occurred to him how much more often he had seen her this year than in all his previous years at Hogwarts combined, thanks to the Triwizard Tournament.

Raigan returned with a bottle in her hand, half full of a bright orange liquid. It looked poisonous. She waved her wand and a glass appeared. She caught it, poured the liquid in until the cup was a quarter full, and handed it to him. Sean picked it up with his good hand and drank it all in one gulp. It tasted terrible, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and swallow hard to be able to stomach it.

"Not pleasant," said Raigan, "but it does the trick. Lie back for about forty minutes to an hour alright? If you sit up, you'll see why I don't recommend it. Hurts a bit for some people, might not bother you. Either way, don't worry about it. I'll come check on you in a while."

Sean laid down, placing his injured hand carefully across his stomach.

He turned his head to look at Evelyn who had not moved or said a word since she had sat down. "Ev," he said quietly.

"It's fine, Sean. I was just being stupid."

"You weren't," he said. Evelyn didn't say anything. She sat very still except for her hands. She kept picking at her chipping nail polish. Caiti didn't often do her nails, but if she did, she used a color-changing spell on them. She had told Evelyn about this long ago, but Evelyn insisted that actually painting them the muggle way was therapeutic even though Sean knew it drove her crazy when it began to chip off.

"Hey," he said. "Tomorrow... I want to do something just us."

Evelyn looked up at him frowning. Her eyes looked more green than usual.

"It's been a long time since we like... did something, you know? Just you and me."

"It's been since last weekend," she said, her voice flat. They had, after all, just spent a day in Hogsmeade together.

"I know," said Sean. "But I mean really just us. And like... for fun. Where we don't talk about Caiti or Marlowe or any of it."

Evelyn's frown deepened, but now it was thoughtful rather than skeptical. "Or the news," she added.

Sean couldn't help himself. A grin spread across his face, from the tip of his tongue, all the way to the corners of his eyes. "Or school," he said. "Or the tournament."

She nodded, starting to smile a little bit, too. "Okay."

They fell quiet again. After a few minutes, Evelyn came to sit on the bed next to him. She looked down at his hand which he was still babying. It wasn't hurting as badly anymore, but it still pulsed with a dull ache, just annoying enough that he couldn't forget about it.

"You know..." she said quietly. It _is _kind of funny."

Sean's gaze snapped up to her face and he was infuriated to see she was smiling, her lips pressed tightly together like she was trying to hold back. "It is not," he said with indignation.

"He broke your hand," she paused for effect, "by shaking it."

Sean stared at her awhile. Her face was set, eyes bright and a little fierce. Then she cracked a smile, and all at once the humor hit him. It was simultaneously the least magical and most impossibly stupid Quidditch injury he had ever heard of.

He grinned back at her starting to laugh. Evelyn was quick to join in. "I guess it's a little funny," he agreed. Evelyn shut her eyes and laughed his favorite silent laugh, where no sound came out, but her shoulders shook up and down.

"Okay, maybe not that funny, though," he laughed.

"Shut up," she grinned.

Sean glanced at the door to Raigan's office to make sure it was still closed before he pushed himself to sitting with one hand. He could already feel why he was supposed to lie back. He felt dizzy almost at once. But he didn't need long. He put his good hand on Evelyn's cheek and kissed her lightly. Then he lay back down and just smiled at her.

Evelyn pursed her lips, tipped her head to one side and smiled back, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second at a time.


	24. The Full Moon Again

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Four. The Full Moon Again.

At six o'clock, a young healer with dark hair tied back in a very long braid knocked on Marlowe's partly open door. She backed herself in, followed by a blue plastic tray hovering a few inches beyond the tip of her wand. The tray carried Marlowe's dinner and a tall goblet, over the top of which Marlowe could see steam pouring out, unfurling in wisps and ripples all along the lip of the glass.

The healer let the tray float down neatly onto his bedside table.

"You'll want to drink this straightaway," she said kindly. "And then make sure and get some food down with it. They'll come for you about half an hour before dark."

Marlowe did not look directly at her when he nodded, staring blankly at his white sheets instead. She exited and he listened to her footsteps grow fainter down the hall before he addressed the goblet again.

This was it then. Tonight he would know for sure that there was no possible chance a miracle had taken place, that the bite had not really done any harm. Not that he had ever held out such hope, but still, when nothing whatsoever had happened to him apart from the nagging pain in his shoulder the first two days he had spent here, it had been easy enough to forget, to not really believe.

That is, until his healer had arrived for one of his customary chats a few days before to discuss the protocol for the full moon. At first, Marlowe had greeted the news that the day he'd been dreading was approaching already with surprising compliance. Soon after, he had gained a sick fascination with reading real life accounts of the full moon experience, of transforming. His healer had been all too encouraging, happy to provide as many documents as he could find. His thought had been that if Marlowe knew exactly what was coming he would not be so frightened of it.

Maybe he'd been partly right, but he had not anticipated the extent to which the accounts had disgusted Marlowe. He had been unable to stop reading, the way people find it hard to look away from a car accident on the side of the highway, but with every passing word, he had begun to feel more and more nauseous. He had barely eaten a thing in three days.

Marlowe rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow and lifted the frothing goblet from the tray. He peered inside at the liquid, deep green and quite unlike anything Marlowe had ever seen. It looked, to be frank, perfectly poisonous.

The fumes slipped into his nose and he coughed so hard he had to set down the glass so he wouldn't spill it. He laid back against the pillows again and stared at the ceiling, trying to talk himself into drinking it.

The weight of the little round pin on his chest had never yet felt like more of a burden. It was the thought of losing his mind, literally, of giving himself over to a force inside him that he could not feel on a normal day, but that he could not control on the wrong day, that finally made him sit up, pick up the glass for the second time, pinch his nose shut with his left hand, and down the potion in one long gulp. Swallowing took focused effort. His eyes watered.

It tasted rotten.

He set the cup back down and laid back against the pillows. Except for the rancid aftertaste in his mouth, he did not feel any different.

The clock in front of him read six seventeen.

He had maybe an hour at most, probably less, before they came to take him to the secure area where he'd be kept for the night, just in case. Already, the sky was looking a dusky purple, just beginning to change.

He picked up the tray, thinking to eat something just for something to do. He did not feel hungry. He took a very small bite of mashed potatoes, hoping at least he could cover up the lingering taste of the potion.

After a few bites, it seemed to be working. No amount of food could have stopped the racing thoughts in his head, though. All day it had been the same cycle on repeat: dread of that night, dread of the next morning, dread of going back to Hogwarts.

He realized now that he had been downright idiotic to think he would want to go back after this. He could not walk into that place and let everyone stare at him and whisper and pretend - badly - to act normal while he was around. He did not ever want to see Caiti again. He could not have the conversation he knew she would want to have. He did not think he could handle seeing her pity him, and Caiti would, though she probably wouldn't mean to.

His tray was nearly empty in ten minutes. He had shoveled down his food, partly from unrealized hunger, partly from stress. He placed the tray on the bedside table and laid back, staring through his open curtains at the sky, growing darker shade by shade. The mauve turned to orange before it softened again, heading towards blue, and that's when the second knock on his door sounded. Marlowe turned his head, heart pounding.

His healer walked in purposefully, clipboard in hand. "Good evening," he said, stopping next to the bed. Marlowe could not say anything back. His throat had never felt so dry.

"Well," continued the healer. "Shall we?" Evidently, he did not think Marlowe needed reminding of what they were heading to, and Marlowe was glad of it, because he was sure if anyone spoke the words out loud, he would pass out on the spot.

He sat up very slowly, staring at the sheets, trancelike. He did not really see anything as he stood up and walked, heavy-footed, around the bed. He and the healer walked out of the room and down a long hallway, then took the elevator up to the top floor. Down at the end of the hall was a small room. The healer performed a series of spells which unlocked the door. Inside, it was completely empty. One whole wall was dedicated to a large window. Marlowe swallowed hard as he stepped over the threshold of the door. He figured there would be a few words about protocol, but all the healer said was "Someone will retrieve you at seven am." And then the door shut and he heard the locks click into place. Wandless, Marlowe knew he was truly stuck there, something he found both comforting and suffocating.

The room was completely silent, the kind of silence that screams in your ears so that it can't be ignored.

Marlowe slid down the wall opposite the window and stared, just waiting. He resumed his tracking of the sky, watching it darken by degrees, and then - all at once it seemed, he had never before watched for the moon to appear - there it was, not bright, but still clear and full.

His body shook all over and he felt a shooting pain run through all his limbs at once: it began.

* * *

When Caiti finished the last step of the wolfsbane potion in her lesson with Professor Pym, she was positively buzzing. This was it. She had no doubt. This time, she had done it. The potion bubbled in front of them, thick steam curling over the edges of her pewter cauldron. It was the exact shade of green prescribed.

Professor Pym reached for the ladle and gave the potion a stir. She smiled a thin-lipped smile. "It's perfect," she said.

Caiti had butterflies in her stomach. "Thank you," she managed to squeak out.

"You've done good work on this," continued Professor Pym. "I really saw you troubleshooting. We're not stopping these lessons yet, though. This is the first time you've done it. I want to see consistent ability before it's safe for anyone to drink it, alright? We'll continue meeting twice a week until you can make it perfectly _every _time."

Caiti nodded. "Of course. Okay. Thank you."

A few minutes later, she packed up her things and headed for the common room, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

But as soon as the door to Ravenclaw tower swung shut behind her, her heart stopped. She had just looked out the tall windows at the other end of the common room, and there, hovering outside, just above the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw's shoulder, was a bright, white, perfect full moon.

In an instant, the space behind Caiti's nose and cheeks filled with a pressure. She bit down hard and willed herself not to cry. And then Sean was there, just standing by her, and he said "I know."

Caiti no longer cared that she had ever been mad at him. Her hands shook and a particularly powerful urge to cry ran through her.

"I didn't know- I mean... I didn't realize- I should've said something-" she stuttered.

Sean took a deep breath. She saw his countenance rise, but he did not let the breath out. She hugged him tight. Her face only reached his ribcage.

Sean gave her a little squeeze. She could tell he was still looking out the window. "He'll be back soon," he said.

* * *

Outside the castle gates, Marlowe hugged his mother and father goodbye, even though he was angry with the pair of them. He had asked not to be made to go back, but they had insisted he was being ridiculous, and that he would regret not finishing his education.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart," said his mom, as she went back for a second hug. "It's only a few months. You'll have your friends. You'll have Elliot." Marlowe nodded and turned to the black iron gates. His dad clapped him on the back.

"Write if you need something, alright?" he said.

Marlowe nodded again and swallowed hard.

He was even more nervous than he had anticipated. He had written Sean a letter the previous evening, asking him to meet him in the entrance hall, because he did not think he could handle seeing everyone all at once. Professor Westwick had arranged to meet Marlowe at the gate.

"Okay... well... see you," said Marlowe, and he entered the grounds.

Professor Westwick was waiting a short ways from the gate. "Good to have you back Mr. Finnegan," he said jovially. He gave Marlowe's hand a firm shake.

"Thanks," said Marlowe, hoisting his bag back up his shoulder. It was heavy thanks to all the textbooks his dad had picked up for him to keep up on his schoolwork. His professors had been sending him the assignments all along, and Sean had been good enough to share his class notes. It was potions, the only class he had without Sean, that he was still behind in. Granted, he would have been behind in potions no matter who was giving him notes, seeing as he was without the opportunity to use his cauldron.

Marlowe stuffed his hands into his pockets as they walked, and Professor Westwick made a few comments about how the quidditch team would be happy to see him back and how, if he were to have any trouble with his peers, disciplinary action would of course be taken. Marlowe nodded and mumbled that he understood, but he was too nervous to speak much.

The castle's front doors - still far away - had just opened and shut, a sliver of light growing into a wedge and then shrinking again, out of sight. Not one, but two people had stepped outside. One of them was certainly Sean, who he had asked to be there. The other, short and regretfully unmistakable, was the one person he had specifically requested not be told he was coming back that night: Caiti.

Marlowe knew he was not up to seeing her yet. He did not know what to say to her. He definitely did not know what she would say to him. He did not even know how to act around her. Was he supposed to say hello? Would she ask why he hadn't told her himself that he was returning that night?

His heart pounded as they approached. The light from the windows inside was just enough that, if he had dared to look up, he could have made out her features at this distance. He ducked his head down so that he would not have to see her face yet. He did not know what it would do to him.

"Ah!" said Professor Westwick. "Looks like your friends have come to greet you, how wonderful!"

"Mhmm," said Marlowe. He glanced up, and saw Sean beginning to approach. He had to guess that Sean had told Caiti to wait on the steps, because all though she had refrained from running at him so far, she was bouncing on her toes with her arms crossed over her belly and looked ready to go at a moment's notice.

As they reached each other about a dozen paces from the front steps where Caiti waited, Sean pulled Marlowe into a hug, patting him on the back twice. "I'm sorry, I know," he muttered. "She got out it out of me. I tried not to tell her."

Marlowe shook his head. "It's fine," he said. His voice was tight. He stood in place, not making to move towards her. His shoes were soaked through by the snow, and he was freezing, but he was too scared to approach her, scared he might say or do something he would later regret.

In the two days since the full moon, Marlowe's mind had been in a state of civil war. Half of him was dying to see her, to make sure she really was okay. The rest of him, had grown bitter. He was not going to deny it to himself or anyone else. Being a werewolf sucked. The entire night had been the worst of his life, worse than the night he was bitten. Transforming hurt. And then he had spent the whole night terrified of himself and of his unfamiliar body, a shape he didn't know. And even worse, it scared him how instinctually he had been able to navigate it. How, even with his human mind still intact and present, he had recognized his own power and potential to harm.

And that powerful other self was always hiding, somewhere inside him, waiting for it's chance to take over. And Marlowe had to spend the better part of each month dreading what he knew would inevitably come again, never far away enough to forget.

And all Caiti had to do was miss him while he was stuck dealing with the rest of it.

He did not want to hurt Caiti, he knew that, but he was scared his temper would get the better of him and he would say something on accident.

He finally looked up at her, really looked at her, as Sean stepped aside and Caiti took this at her cue. She ran straight at him and threw her arms around his middle, almost knocking him backwards. His heart shot into his throat and his stomach clenched. His arms folded around her and she seemed impossibly small.

"Hi," he said, his voice a little hoarse. She had nearly knocked the wind out of him. Tentatively, he moved one hand up to the back of her head, and slid it down her hair.

Caiti pulled back just enough to look at him. They both opened their mouths but she didn't seem to have any more idea what to say than he did. He pulled her into his chest again and stared, unblinking, at the snow a few feet behind her. He had expected many things when he imagined seeing Caiti again, but he had not expected he would feel so overwhelmed. He was short of breath and actually dizzy.

Professor Westwick cleared his throat and said, "Shall we head inside to the warmth, then?"

Marlowe had almost forgotten he was there. Westwick led the way to the front doors and the three of them fell in step behind him. Cait's hands slid away from Marlowe's back. She had still not said a word.

"Uhm... thanks Professor. I think- I think we can get back fine."

"I thought we'd make an announcement to-" he began to say, but Marlowe did not like the sound of that one bit.

"No," he said quickly. "I mean- I'd rather not... make a big deal of it."

Westwick appeared taken aback, but he nodded solemnly and said, "Of course."

They walked on in silence until their path verged from Professor Westwick's. He paused and said, "If you need anything.. Please don't hesitate... wonderful to have you back with us. Really." Marlowe nodded but did not say a word. Westwick gave them a weak smile as he turned to go and they all went on their way again.

"So... how are you?" asked Sean. Marlowe glanced at him, across Caiti, who was walking a foot away from him with her arms folded and her gaze on her feet. He felt a little guilty about not holding her hand or something, but he still felt a little addled by suddenly being so close to her after so long.

"Okay," said Marlowe, which was a lie, but he didn't feel like going into detail.

"Good," said Sean, after too long of a pause.

"I'm just tired," Marlowe said blankly. He couldn't think of a better excuse.

"Yeah, sure," Sean nodded. "Don't worry about it."

No one said anything else so Marlowe had ample time to consider the distance between his side and Caiti's, both far too close, and not nearly close enough. Had she unfolded her arms, he thought maybe he would have tried to take her hand, but then again, he also might not have.

They arrived outside the common room door, but no one went to knock right away. "God, I do not want to walk in there," said Marlowe quietly.

Caiti finally reached out for him again, one hand on his back. "We're with you," she said.

He nodded, but didn't open his mouth again. He was beginning to feel a little sick. Sean raised his hand to the knocker, watching Marlowe a minute before he knocked. He answered the question and they stepped inside, Marlowe last to enter. He froze inside the door. Everyone stared, and then the whispers broke out. A couple of people shouted out cheerful greetings, but there was an overwhelming atmosphere of gossip. "I'm going to bed," said Marlowe. He brushed Caiti's arm and made quiet eye contact with Sean, and then he walked away, head down and up the stairs.

Evelyn had been sitting in the common room waiting for Sean to return, and she got up and made her way over to the O'Connell's, still standing my the door.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Nervous," said Sean. He glanced at Caiti who was still staring at the staircase to the boys dormitory with a small frown.

"And..." Evelyn said, looking to Caiti now. "How are you?"

"I don't know," she said. "I guess, I sort of thought he would kiss me or something."

"Give him some time," said Evelyn gently. "Can't have been easy to come back."

Caiti nodded. Her frown faded away, leaving her face looking tired and sad. "I'm gonna go to bed too," she said, and she walked away without another word.


	25. Another First Day

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Five. Another First Day.

The morning after Marlowe's return, Caiti awoke feeling more cheerful than she had in weeks. She spent a few extra minutes primping in front of the mirror before she made her way down to the great hall for breakfast. Marlowe was already there, sitting across from Sean and Evelyn and her stomach flipped around with a pleasant sort of nervousness. It was all so wonderfully familiar, the sight of the back of his dark-haired head, and next to him an open place, always left for her. She sat herself down as usual, placing one hand on his shoulder for balance as she stepped over the bench. For the first time, she was able to feel his scar right through his clothes; it unnerved her, but she shook it off and kissed him on the cheek. "Good morning," she said.

He looked at her and his expression was not exactly happy and not exactly unhappy. He looked away again. His plate was empty.

Caiti glanced up at Sean and he checked that Marlowe was not looking before he mouthed _'nervous.' _ She translated her understanding only through a slight pinching of the outer corners of her eyes and a tightening of her lips.

No one knew what to say. Evelyn and Sean kept shooting each other looks like they were daring one another to try and make conversation first. Caiti, who had been sitting with her hands folded in her lap, lifted her hands suddenly, half-glanced at Marlowe, and then began to spoon some eggs onto her plate. Her cheerful attitude was evaporating quickly. It was proving much more difficult than she had anticipated to bounce back to their usual routine.

"D'you... d'you want some eggs?" she asked.

He muttered "Sure," in a resigned kind of way. His mouth barely opened. She thought he looked a bit green. She hesitated before she spooned him a healthy serving. Marlowe picked up his fork and considered his plate a while.

Then Amelia exhibited her worst timing yet. In the weeks since the attack, she had decided that Marlowe's condition had made him far more interesting than a silly school champion and had lost all interest in Sean at once. She slid onto the bench next to Marlowe, slamming into his side, as if no time had passed since the beginning of the school year, as if the debacle with Sean had never occurred, let alone everything Marlowe had been dealing with for the last month.

"Hey!" she said loudly. Perhaps the worst thing about Amelia, Caiti thought, having lived with her for nearly six years now, was that her voice carried and made it impossible to ignore her.

Caiti saw Marlowe stiffen as Amelia continued. "I'm soooooooooo glad you're back," she said. "It's like... so weird without you here you know? Like, where's Marlowe? But anyway, everyone was so sweet to me, because they all _knew _how close we were. Hey, did you hear how the last quidditch match went? Bit of a mess wasn't it? Good thing you're back. But at least we won. Right? Right?" Her lipstick was a brighter red than ever and not applied particularly well.

She waited a moment for a response from Marlowe, but when he remained stiff as a board next to her, jaw clenched, and fork gripped too tightly in his fist, she continued to talk.

"Hey, what's it like being a werewolf?" she asked. Caiti's head snapped to her left, eyes wide and round and saucers. She willed Amelia not to go on - this was a huge mistake. But Amelia, as proven by her persistence with the wedding invitations, was oblivious to social cues. "Did you bite anyone?" she asked.

The entire room went silent. Caiti's hand flew to her mouth. Marlowe stood at once, banging into the table, and he stalked out of the room. The glasses shook, Sean's sloshing over the side and soaking the tablecloth.

Caiti picked up both her bag and Marlowe's, which he had left behind, and climbed back over the bench. She rounded on Amelia. "Really nice, Amelia." she said. Her voice was low and it shook. "Really _sensitive." _And then she ran out of the room, all too aware of everyone's eyes on her as she shoved through the double doors and out into the corridor.

Marlowe had not gone far. She saw him at the top of the marble staircase with his forehead pressed into the stone wall. Caiti climbed up to him, dropped the bags on the floor and put her hand on his back. He turned around and opened his mouth to say something, but Caiti wrapped her arms around him tight and did not say a word. She refused to let it bother her that his hands on her back were almost perfunctory. She knew he did not really mind, or he would have pulled away.

It was almost ten minutes before she let go of him. A trickle of students had already begun to leave the great hall.

"Thanks," said Marlowe quietly. They made eye contact and her heart beat very fast. His face looked so worn down and tired, and worst of all, hurt. She did not know what to tell him

She stood there staring at him with her lips parted and a breath held in for thirty seconds before she said, "That was... absolute _crap."_

Marlowe actually cracked a smile, though admittedly tiny, and relief swept through Caiti in an instant. He reached for her and kissed her on the forehead as he pulled her back into his arms. This time, his grip on her was much more firm. She turned her face to the side, ear to his chest, and said. "Don't you dare to listen to her, okay? She's a complete idiot."

"I know that," he said.

Caiti squeezed him a little tighter. "Marlowe, " she said. "I'm _really _glad you're back."

She felt his fingers catch in the ends of her hair. He didn't say anything. She knew he didn't totally agree. But that was okay. It would get better. She knew it would.

The trickle of people had picked up now. More and more pairs of feet were walking past them and Caiti was sure everyone was stopping to look at them. They fell apart again. Caiti stepped back and picked up his bag. "Here... you left this," she said.

"Right. Thanks." He reached for the bag.

"Well... we should probably..." Caiti said, bending over to grab her own bag.

"Class, yeah," said Marlowe.

"If you want... we could go to the library after class. No one usually comes to our table."

He nodded. "Okay."

Caiti turned to go, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder.

"Caiti," he said. Her stomach flipped and she turned around again. He took a step towards her and put his hand on her cheek. His thumb brushed once over her temple before he kissed her.

* * *

Following the events of that morning, Marlowe did not have high hopes for his first day back. In defense against the dark arts, though it was his favorite subject and one he was usually engaged and vocal in, he sat with his head down and took good notes, but did not say a word or even look at Professor Mason.

He felt eyes on his back and the people in front of him actually turned around to look at him a few times, making eyes at each other as they faced front again.

But no real problem arose until he and Sean were seated in a history of magic. The class was very small at N.E.W.T. level - only eight of their year remained. Leaving his book closed in his bag, Marlowe slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms.

"Wanna play hangman?" asked Sean in a low voice when Professor Binns began to lecture.

Marlowe nodded, only because he did not want to make Sean feel that things had changed. Sean pulled a page from his notebook and began scratching out lines for each of the letters. And that was when a voice behind him hissed "Oi! Finnegan."

It was Allan McNab, a Slytherin, and perhaps the only one in the class who actually found the subject halfway interesting.

Marlowe knew he wouldn't have anything good to say and he certainly wasn't going to take the bait. He did not turn around. McNab was not deterred.

"How come you didn't answer 'er question?" he asked. Marlowe could hear the grin in his voice. There was nothing McNab loved more than an easy target to taunt. He was lanky and insubstantial, much unlike his big, burly friend Mullins, who Marlowe knew from Quidditch. He was almost more dangerous though.

Where Mullins had no problem knocking down first years in the corridors when no Professors were looking, or sticking his leg out to trip someone passing by in the great hall, McNab's strength was in his head. He enjoyed watching people trying to ignore his snide remarks until they blew up.

The worst part was that he was subtle, so good at hiding what he was doing that he never got in trouble for anything.

"Ignore it," muttered Sean.

McNab went on. "We all want to know the answer Wolfy. Bit anyone lately?" His voice was like an irritating whistle in Marlowe's ear; the harder he tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to be the only thing his brain would focus on.

Binns continued to lecture them on the establishment of international magical trade and transport laws and the illegal underground trade system that emerged in protest. He did not seem to know that only Marlowe was looking at him. Each of his other students was staring between Marlowe and McNab.

Marlowe reached into his bag and removed his notebook, quill, and ink. He opened to a fresh page and began to copy down, in meticulous, neat handwriting, much unlike his usual scrawl, what Binns was saying. Word for word. He did not retain anything any of the ideas. It was all just individual words, strung together into nonsensical sentences. All he really heard was McNab, still asking over and over again whether Marlowe had bitten anyone.

"Come on," he said in a slow, irritating voice. "I bet everyone would like to know. And anyway if you're so reluctant to tell us... probably means you _did _have yourself a taste."

Marlowe bit down hard. His hand shook horribly on the paper. His quill, pressed firmly into the paper, left little scratches around the place it was jammed into the table, ruining his pristine notes.

"That's right. Seems you've admitted it wolfy. Finnegan's had himself a little taste. And I'll bet he wants some more. Thought he'd come back to school and get easy access. Who do you think he'll go for next? Think he'll take out targets for people if you pay 'im?" McNab chuckled at his own sick joke and Sean gave Marlowe a warning look, but it was almost too late.

It had been a mistake to come back here. A terrible, huge mistake.

"You know what I'll bet? He came back for that girl, little blondie. She's your sister, isn't she, O'Connell? School champion's sister," he said. "Bet you'd like a piece of her, Finnegan."

Marlowe had had it. He slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself to stranding. His quill, still in his hand, broke in two, and he knocked over his ink bottle. Sean whipped out his wand and muttered "_Reparo," _and then _"Scourgify," _rectifying the damage and the mess. But Marlowe already had his bag over his shoulder. His face, he knew, was a deep red. He was boiling, perspiration had begun to drip from his hairline at once. His stomach twisted around with something acidic.

_"I have not," _he said. His voice was low and almost faint. He could barely get the words out. For the second time that day, he stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Behind the door, Professor Binns finally seemed to have realized that something had been going on, because he stopped talking abruptly. Then the door opened again and Sean slipped out.

"Really, boy," called Professor Binns. "There are still forty five minutes of class. Where are you all going?"

Sean shut the door quietly and then stood there, holding Marlowe's ink, quill, and notebook, which had been left at the desk. He looked quite at a loss for what to say.

"Please go away," said Marlowe in a thin voice. Hot tears were beginning to prick in his eyes and he did not want Sean to see him cry.

McNab had hit at what was maybe the most sensitive part of his predicament - that in saving Caiti, Marlowe might have only prolonged the danger she had been in for a matter of minutes that night.

He'd been wrong of course. Marlowe would never have hurt her voluntarily. The thought of biting her - purposely or accidentally - made him want to be sick. And McNab had forced him to confront that fear, one he had not really let himself consider yet. He was terrified to think what he would do if he accidentally hurt her, if she got too close while he was dangerous, if something went wrong with the potion, as it was proven could happen.

He couldn't stop thinking how it would feel to wake up as himself again and to realize what he'd done.

For the first time, Marlowe felt sorry for Mr. Fenwick.

He swallowed hard. Sean was still standing just outside the classroom door, watching him like he was a bomb about to go off. But Marlowe didn't feel angry anymore. He felt scared and defeated and more than a little frightened of himself.

"That was a... a really messed up thing to say," said Sean.

"It wasn't," said Marlowe. His voice was very dry.

"You would never do that," said Sean.

"I wouldn't," said Marlowe. "But..."

"It'll be fine."

"And what if it's not?" snapped Marlowe. "What if I don't have the potion? What if it's messed up? I don't think you get it, Sean. Without that, I can't control myself. Without that, I'm _not _myself."

Sean seemed to know that Marlowe did not want to talk about it anymore so he kept quiet. Marlowe appreciated this. Sean's ability to read people was one of his best qualities. It was what made him so considerate. Still, he was glad Sean was there. He found again that he was more scared of being left alone than he was of admitting how scared he was to his friends.

"Come on," said Sean after a minute. "Let's just go up to the common room."

"We've still got another class," said Marlowe, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. To sit through one more lesson that day would have been torture.

"So we'll skip it," said Sean. Marlowe thought he could actually see the physical pain that idea caused his friend. Sean had never skipped a class voluntarily in all his time at Hogwarts.

"Go to class, Sean. You'll regret it if you skip."

"Maybe. But I'll regret it more if I leave you alone like a crap friend. Let's go. Don't argue."

* * *

Caiti leaned against the wall outside the library, holding her bag by the handle so it rested on the floor. Her shoulder ached from carrying it. She had almost gone inside to wait for him like usual, but on second thought, she had thought he might not want to walk through the library alone so she waited outside.

He showed up ten minutes after she arrived looking shifty and uncomfortable. He was not carrying his school bag.

"Didn't you guys get any assignments today?" she asked, frowning at him as he approached.

"Couldn't focus," said Marlowe. "Can we go somewhere else?"

"Of course," she said. She took up her bag again and stepped towards him. They began to walk. She got the feeling Marlowe was no more clear where he was headed than she was.

"How was- how was your day?" she asked. She started to reach for his hand before she realized they were stuffed into his pockets again.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said.

"Okay. Then let's... let's talk about something else," said Caiti. She glanced up at him twice. The second time, she just watched him, which was dangerous because her track record for walking and not looking where she was going was not great.

She misjudged the corner they were rounding and ran into the wall. Marlowe stopped to make sure she was fine. He left his hand on her shoulder and it felt different than it ever had. This was not the easy way he'd always had of looping his arm around her. It felt protective, maybe even a little territorial. When Caiti readjusted her bag on her shoulder, he reached over and took it from her without a word. She thought he might make a joke about it, but he didn't.

A few minutes later, he found an empty classroom and, with a slightly increased pressure on her upper back, he steered her inside.

Peeves had obviously been here recently because there were a few rude remarks written on the blackboard. Caiti went to erase them while Marlowe placed her bag on the nearest chair. When she turned back around, he was sitting on the edge of a desk watching her. His face was impassive. She felt nervous again, like she had that morning. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Caiti, feeling uncomfortable, looked down and said. "Stop acting weird. It's just me."

"C'mere," he said. Half seated and half standing as he was, he was at eye level with her when she reached him. But then he just stared at her again.

Caiti started to laugh a little nervous laugh. "Stop," she said through her giggles. "Why are you staring at me?"

Marlowe finally smiled. "Sorry. It's just been... I mean, honestly, today sucked. I still don't want to talk about it. But you're pretty. And that doesn't suck like everything else."

Caiti narrowed her eyes at him. "You're weird. Don't be sappy."

Marlowe grabbed one of her hands and traced over the narrow bones running up to her fingers with his thumb. "D'you know Allan McNab?"

"Of him," she said. He had raised goosebumps all over her arms.

"He said some things today... in response to Amelia's comment this morning."

He paused and Caiti's eyes flicked up to his. It kept surprising her that he was here and she felt her cheeks heat up when they made eye contact.

"He was saying-" But Marlowe stopped. He looked up at the ceiling and his thumb stopped it's little circles on the back of her hand.

"You don't have to say it," she said quietly.

"I can't."

"Okay," she said. "So don't." He nodded, and lowered his gaze again. She put her hands on his shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. He was very tense. She turned her head to look outside.

"Caiti?" he asked. It was already going dark outside the window. She could only see a bit of the grounds behind a flat blackness, not yet the deep black of night, but darker than dusk.

"Mmhmm?"

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asked. She knew what 'it' meant although he didn't explain any further. This was the big 'it,' not today's 'it' - this was about the whole thing, what had happened, what he'd done for her.

"Yes," she said at once. "But if you aren't ready to, let's not."

"Okay, let's not," he said. He sounded relieved, but she wasn't. She didn't want to push him, but she felt like there was too much hanging over them right now.

"Okay," she said. And she clasped her hands behind his neck, crossed her fingers, and hoped he would change his mind soon.

"Listen," she said after another few minutes had passed.. "Maybe it was a sucky day, but... it doesn't have to be all bad. I've waited a month to see you. Let's do something fun."

"Like what?" he asked. He sounded tired, but she wasn't ready to let him pull the 'early to bed' card again. She'd waited a month and still had not heard him laugh.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, poking him in the stomach.

He recoiled. "Ouch."

"Yes or no?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Alright, let's go," she said, straightening up. She grabbed his hand and pulled, but he did not stand.

"No, everyone'll be in the great hall at this time."

"God, not there," she said, wrinkling her nose. "The _kitchens."_

Marlowe eyed her for a minute. By the little quirk up of one side of his mouth, he was clearly trying to make an effort to be less miserable. "Sold," he said.

She tugged on his hand again and this time, he stood. She was glad he did not look out the window, because, at a last glance outside on their way out the door, she saw the moon, waning, but still distinctly round, and she had a hunch he would have started acting weird again if he knew.

He looped his arm over her shoulders again, much more familiar and pleasant now. "I feel bad keeping you from doing your work," he said.

"Please don't," she said. "There is nothing I'd rather do less."

They chattered aimlessly as they made their way down several flights of stairs. Finally, he seemed to be letting go of at least a little bit of the stress he'd been carrying around with him all day. Caiti had a feeling the sudden release had to do more with the fact she had agreed to put off a difficult conversation than with them going to get food, but she was too emotionally exhausted to let it bother her. It was easy to make witty remarks about the portraits they passed and listen to him talk for the first time since he'd been back.

As they neared the great hall, which they had to pass by to reach the staircase to the basement, the number of students they encountered began to pick up. Caiti began to fear that he would close off again so when, standing at the top of the marble staircase, she saw the door to the great hall open, she pulled him into a little cubby in the wall behind a suit of armor. It was not very large. "What are we-" said Marlowe, but Caiti clapped her hand over his mouth and put her finger to her lips. She glanced past the suit of armor. They were not particularly well concealed, but she was more interested in making a game out of it than in really hiding. When the people had passed, she grabbed his hand and slid back out from behind and they continued on their way.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"We're on a _mission," _said Caiti, giving him a look like this was obvious. "Can't be stopping for weather chats, now can we?"

Marlowe gave her a look like she was crazy, but when, halfway down the stairs to the basement, they heard footsteps at the top, he picked up his pace and they ran down the rest of the steps at top speed before jumping behind the corner. They flattened themselves against the wall, side by side. Caiti looked up at him with a bright, open mouthed smile on her face as they waited for the people to be gone. There was no question they had been seen this time. But Marlowe had gone along with her game and that was all she cared about.

Once the coast was clear, Caiti peeled herself off the wall, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. "Nailed it," she said. "They didn't even know we were there."

Marlowe laughed out loud and they headed for the painting that marked the entrance to the kitchen. He tickled the pear and then he tried to tickle Caiti, but she saw it coming and grabbed both his hands to trap them. "Nice try," she said smugly, and she let go of him and walked inside.


	26. Other Good Friends

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Six. Other Good Friends.

It was two in the morning, and Evelyn was by far the last one left in the common room. The fire had gone out already and out the window she could see nothing but a flat blackness, interrupted only by the shadows of the tallest trees. She sat hunched over a small round table in the most uncomfortable wicker chair- she had been sure that she would fall asleep if she allowed herself anything more comfortable. When Sean had gone to bed around eleven, she had promised she was almost through and would head up soon, but it had been a lie. Her arithmancy assignment was not going well and she hated asking for help so, more and more slowly as the night went on, she prodded her way through it on her own.

She yawned deeply, tipping her head into her hand. Her hair had gone frizzy and staticky from the number of times she had raked her fingers through it to get it out of her face. Twice she had nearly gone upstairs for a hair tie, but she knew the bed would be too tempting and decided against it.

Evelyn stared at the last sentence she had written with blank, unblinking eyes. She had recently hit her fourth wind of the night and had felt nothing short of jiterry, but it was fading as fast as it had come on.

"Oh," said a voice. Evelyn jumped about a foot out of her seat and looked around wildly for the source. Marlowe stood at the foot of the stairs, sporting bedhead, blue striped pajama bottoms, and an old gray t-shirt.

"Oh my god," she said, melting over, forehead in her hands. Her heart was pounding. "You scared me," she said.

Marlowe walked over to her and sat down. "What are you doing still up?" he asked.

"Just working," she said. Her breathing rate was slowly beginning to return to normal. "Or trying to anyway. Why are you up?" Her heart rate began to slow again. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and twisted it all into a bun. It stayed for several seconds and then it began to unravel again. She pulled it back out.

"Couldn't sleep," said Marlowe. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward to look at her work, but she covered it with her hands.

"Don't read it," she said. "It probably sucks. I've been up all night."

Marlowe laughed and looked up at her face instead. "Alright."

Evelyn yawned again. "I should just give up."

"It's due tomorrow?" he asked. She nodded, put her hands in her face again, and shut her eyes. Her fingers pulled at the skin around her eyes and cheeks. "Well, I don't think I'll be much help, but... do you mind if I sit with you awhile?"

"Go for it," she said, peeking at him from behind her fingers. "Maybe you can keep me awake." She dropped her hands, tucked one leg up onto the chair, and hugged her knee. They looked at each other awhile then Evelyn frowned and said "How've you been?" She spoke quietly.

"Fine," he said.

"Be honest," she said. "I won't tell anyone."

Marlowe didn't answer. He asked a question instead. "Have you talked to Caiti about... what happened?"

She nodded. "A bit."

"What did she say?" he asked. His face looked lined and tired. She had seen this look more and more often since he'd been back. It had only been about a week and a half, but it seemed like every day there had been some new incident. No one had forgotten what Amelia had said that first morning and it seemed to have inspired a lot of the Slytherins. They were treating Amelia like something of a hero and Marlowe like he had a 'Kick Me' sign taped to his back.

Evelyn shrugged. "She didn't say a lot to be honest. She wasn't really talking to Sean and I until a few days before you came back. She was just really sad."

"What about... since I came back?" he asked, looking down at the table.

"I don't know if I should-"

"I won't tell her. Please, Ev."

Evelyn sighed. "I just don't think you being back is what she anticipated is all."

"Oh," he said.

"I don't mean that she's not still happy you're back," she said quickly. "She is. Just-" Evelyn slid her leg back down to the floor and leaned forward. "Look, I know how Sean is, and I think Caiti is the same way. They like to talk about things, as soon as they happen. They only want to talk to the people directly involved though. She doesn't tell me much, she doesn't tell Sean anything... because we aren't you. She wants to talk to you about it. And she's putting off doing that because she knows it's not easy for you, but I think it's getting to her. It's a big thing to leave unresolved, isn't it?"

Marlowe just looked at her for a long time, lips pressed together. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet," he said. "To her."

"So don't," said Evelyn easily. "I know how that feels. I don't always want to talk about things either. Actually, I usually don't. It's an O'Connell thing. She'll be fine. Just know that, eventually, she's not going to wait anymore. You're lucky she's more patient than Sean, because he lasts about two minutes before he can't take it. It drives me crazy."

"You're more like me than I realized," said Marlowe. She smiled.

This time, it was Marlowe who yawned. Evelyn was quick to mimic. She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I don't think I can finish this," she said. "I'll just have to work on it at breakfast and lunch tomorrow."

"Sorry for distracting you."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about. I was long gone anyway."

"Well I should let you get to bed," he said.

"Are you going back up?" she asked.

"Not yet." He folded his hand on the table, fingers interlaced. Evelyn leaned back in her chair.

"Then I'll stay awhile," she said.

He looked up at her. "Thanks," he said, after a beat. She shrugged. "So did Mullins really break Sean's hand in that quidditch match or did he make up that story to cover up the fact that he sucks?"

Evelyn laughed a silent laugh. "No, that was real," she said. "I think he'd rather lie about breaking his hand than about missing the goals."

"He better not miss any next game," said Marlowe darkly. "Can't afford it."

"Well, you're in luck, because I don't think Hufflepuff will be breaking anyone's hands on purpose," she grinned.

"Nah," Marlowe agreed thoughtfully. He had surpassed the humor and gone into full strategizing mode. "They've got a crap team this year too. Shame. They've been decent for a few years now. But I guess that's good for us."

"I wouldn't know the difference," Evelyn admitted. "I don't know anything about quidditch."

"That's alright," said Marlowe. "You cheer for the right team."

This time, her grin quickly turned into a yawn.

"Go to bed," he said. "I'll be fine. You'll have to get up so you can work on that." He nodded at her unfinished essay.

"I probably should," said Evelyn. She ran her fingers through her hair again. "You're sure you're good?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. Evelyn eyed him a minute and then decided that she believed him.

Slowly, she began to pack up her things. She felt a bit like she was moving through water. Her limbs were tired and heavy. She was going to fall asleep the second she hit her pillow. She wasn't even sure she'd make it into her pajamas.

"You know," said Marlowe, watching her gather her things. "I should talk to you more often." She glanced up at him and he added, looking a little shy about it, "You calm me down."

Evelyn smiled. "Any time you want," she said. "You know where to find me." She stood, stacked everything, and lifted the pile into her arms, holding it all against her chest. "You get some sleep too, okay?"

He nodded. "Soon."

She took a step back from the table. "Alright well... goodnight Marlowe."

"Night, Ev."

She turned and headed upstairs, feeling an odd sort of peace after their brief conversation. She and Marlowe had never talked all that much one on one, but she still cared about him. It was good to see him talking quidditch again. Perhaps, she thought, as she climbed into bed, it was a good thing he had a friend who was a little more neutral than either Sean, or especially Caiti was able to be. It had been good for her too, to talk to someone besides Sean who was always anxious about something, or Caiti, who was, at present, not the world's biggest bundle of joy when she wasn't putting on a show for Marlowe, whom she was determined to be in good spirits for. The whole situation was more than a bit of a mess.

But she didn't have the energy to think about it anymore. She fell asleep at once.

On Friday morning, Caiti sat down by Theo in Charms. They had been talking significantly less since Marlowe had come back and she'd found she missed him.

"Hey," she said, dumping her bag on the floor. She pulled out her textbook, a roll of parchment to hand in, and her wand.

"Hey," he said. He gave her a cheerful smile that made her feel much better. Breakfast that morning had not been a particularly pleasant affair. Marlowe had been acting normally until one of the Slytherin's went out of their way to pass by and tease him. Their most recent joke involved asking multiple times per day whether he'd heard from his "old man Fenwick" lately, something which never failed to put Marlowe in a sour mood.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Okay," she said honestly. She'd been pretending she was as happy as she could be for just under two weeks now. It was wearing on her.

"How's uhm..." he began. She knew he still felt a little weird talking to her about Marlowe, and though she often asked for details on the Clara-front, and he gave them, he made sure to apologize afterward, every time.

"Fine," she said. "Changes by the minute."

She leaned forward on her desk, resting her cheek on her hands so she could still look at him. Trying to keep Marlowe in a good mood was exhausting. It was so hard not to be insensitive to the many, many things he found difficult to handle when she was so sick of him being unhappy - for his sake and for hers. There were moments, of course, where he acted like himself and she could relax, but then – and she never knew when it would hit – any little thing could make him close off again. She hated that she felt a little selfish about it all, but she did. Except those few moments, she did not get much in return.

Theo just watched her for a minute with his eyes narrowed.

"You're really okay," he said, to confirm.

She nodded, then, as an afterthought, she added, "Mostly."

"Explain."

"I'm a little overwhelmed," she admitted. "And also a little underwhelmed."

As soon as she had said it out loud, she felt a strange kind of relief, like a gigantic weight had been lifted off her chest. She opened her mouth in preparation for all the words that were getting ready to come out. She had not really talked to anyone about this, not even Evelyn, because she knew she would tell Sean, and Sean would not be able to help himself from telling Marlowe, and Marlowe could not know.

"I just feel like I'm giving so much all the time, and I don't know how to help. I just- I have no idea what I'm_ doing_ half the time and I don't know if it's making any difference. And... and... god, I don't know. I just feel like the worst person ever complaining about it. He saved my life. But I don't know... I just wish he would _try _not to be so miserable all the time."

Now that she had started she could not stop. She shifted slightly so that she could prop her head in her hand, elbow on the desk. "And I just feel a little stupid for thinking it would be different. I couldn't wait for him to come back. I thought, you know... when he's here, it'll be fine. I'll be happy. Everything will be better. It'll all be over. But it's not. It's worse. It sucks. I just don't know what to do, because like... he won't _talk _to me about it. And it's like this huge, huge thing that's just stuck there between us and I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, he hasn't even let me say thank you."

"You're not the worst person ever," said Theo. She smirked, the closest thing to a smile she could manage. She was amazed – and relieved, because class would begin any minute – that she had not cried. "Can I do anything?" he asked. She could tell that he knew as he said it that he had no more idea than she did what kind of help he could give.

"No," she said quietly. "Thanks for listening though. I just needed to get that out." She sat up finally. Theo scooted his chair over to her and gave her a short, but tight hug.

The professor had just entered the room to start class, but, as he moved his chair back to its original place, he looked her over again and said, in a low voice, "For the record, I wasn't kidding. You're not the worst person ever. He's really lucky to have you."

Caiti's lips quivered towards a smile and she nodded once, looked down at her hands on the desk, and said nothing. She couldn't help thinking that she was really lucky to have Theo. Not many ex-boyfriends would put that much energy into continuing a friendship, particularly not one that was not much fun. But then, she thought, that was what a good friend was. Theo was sticking with her through her hard time the same way that she stuck with Marlowe, even though neither of them were getting anything for it. She blew out a long deep breath and pushed it all to the back of her mind for now. She would not be able to approach that day's practical lesson without a clear head.

Ever since his talk with Evelyn, there had only been one thing on Marlowe's mind: quidditch. He had realized that, so far, there had been no word from the Ballycastle Bats. No news was neither good news nor bad news, and that meant he did not need to give up hope yet. He might still be able to play he began to focus all his efforts on a new training regimen. This game would be the most important of his entire life and they had only five weeks to prepare.

Standing in front of his team and giving directions had been scary at first, but he had quickly realized no one was undermining his captaincy. It was the one place he felt like he was really himself: no Slytherin's taunting, no conversation with Caiti hanging over his head, and most of all, he simply loved quidditch. So on Saturday, just after lunch, he headed down to the pitch with Sean for practice, feeling in better spirits than he could remember.

The air was perfect, crisp and cool, but fresh. It was mid-March now and finally the first hint of spring was in the air. The team gathered on the benches, everyone waiting for what he had to say that day.

"Alright, listen," he said. "Last match was a bit of a mess. Obviously that's because I wasn't there," he joked. "No offense," he added to Charlie, who had filled in for him. "Anyway, it's a good thing we're playing Hufflepuff, because I've worked it all out. First of all, we cannot lose. Period. And we can't win by any less than four hundred and thirty points if we're going to stop Slytherin winning the cup. We gave them a big lead. I mean, Sean gave them a big lead."

"You mean Mullins gave them a big lead," Sean interjected in a flat voice.

"Whatever. Clara and Theo, stop making out and listen." They were not, of course; they were only sitting close by each other, but he had not been pleased when it had come out to him a week ago that they had been spending time together with intentions other than to be supportive teammates. He didn't believe in inter-team dating. There could be no distractions.

"We're going to be working on some new plays based on Hufflepuff's style for you three," he said, looking at his chasers. "From what I've heard, it seems like Slytherin was expecting some of our feints after the first match, so we've got to switch it up in case Hufflepuff think they're going to prepare for the same. And Theo, Clara, and I- we've got to work on some diversions. We want to give them as little opportunity to score as possible, keep their seeker away from the snitch at all costs, because the game can't end too soon."

He paused, frowning around at everyone. "We're gonna win this cup," he said.

"Yeah we are," said Clara, holding up her hand for a high five. Marlowe smacked it hard and everyone murmured their agreement.

"Okay, get your brooms," he said, and they headed out to the pitch.

When the boys returned from practice, Evelyn and Caiti were sitting on the floor in the common room, next to the fire. Evelyn had a stack of that week's papers unfolded in front of her. She'd been falling behind on her usual deep scan as their N.E.W.T. homework picked up.

Caiti looked up as they approached. Marlowe was sweaty and had mud all over the bottoms of his robes. She swatted him away as he dropped down next to her. "You're gross," she said, but when he laughed, and ducked around her hand to kiss her, she was pleasantly surprised anyhow.

"Whatcha working on?" he asked.

"Potions essay," she said, tapping her open textbook with her quill.

"Close to done?"

"Getting there." She unrolled the whole parchment to see how far along she was. "Four or five more inches I guess."

"Good," he said. He stood up again. "I'm gonna go shower, but let's do something when you're finished."

She nodded, feeling all warm and pleased. He had not been this way in so long. He headed up the stairs, leaving only Sean behind, who was reading an article over Evelyn's shoulder about the latest muggle-baiting crisis. The incidents had become so regular it was hard to feel shocked by them anymore. They'd all grown numb to them. Still, Evelyn cut each article out and kept them together inside a navy blue cardboard photo box which was open next to her. They were all organized by date so that she could try to piece together clues when she was bored.

"He's in a good mood," said Caiti into the air. She was still looking at the place he had disappeared up the stairs.

"Good practice," said Sean.

"You should practice more often," said Caiti. Sean laughed.

"Alright, well I'm gonna go get cleaned up, too." He squeezed Evelyn's shoulder as he stood to go. "Let's go to dinner early. I'm starving."

She looked up at him backwards and said "Okay."

Marlowe returned just as Caiti was writing her conclusion. He sat next to her with his arm wrapped low around her waist, which was very distracting. She scrawled out her last few discombobulated sentences in a hurry and then she snapped her textbook shut and looked at him. "Where to?"

"Put that away and... get your coat," he said.

Caiti smiled and took the stairs at a jog. She was back in just over a minute, shrugging her coat over her arms. She paused next to him to zip it and then they headed back out of the common room.

"It feels like spring," he told her, as they made their way down the corridor.

"About time," said Caiti. He laughed. She couldn't completely ignore the prickle of fear that this good mood was only temporary, but she was determined to enjoy it.

"How was practice?" she asked.

"Good," he said. "Really good. They're looking better. I think we could win."

Caiti smiled. "Good," she said. "I'm glad."

She slid her hand into his as they walked down the grand staircase to the ground floor. Marlowe kept bowing his head to the various portraits and offering hoity-toity greetings in his best snobby accent to make her laugh.

Then they were pushing through the oak front doors and heading out onto the grounds. It was still chilly, but the fresh air felt good on her skin and clean to breathe. It cleared her head. Marlowe headed right out the door towards the back of the castle. They found an old ledge of rocks built up into the side of the hill and Marlowe pulled out his wand to clear away the remaining snow and ice that had cemented itself to the top layer.

Caiti had to put her hands down and jump to launch herself up to where she could sit down. Marlowe joined her much more easily. They had a distant view of the lake from here. The Durmstrang ship rocked gently back and forth out by the dock, sending ripples out in the otherwise still water.

Caiti glanced at Marlowe and then she put her hands down and scooted herself over so their sides were pressed together. Marlowe looped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into him. They didn't talk much, but she didn't mind. It felt like enough, today, to just sit with him. It felt a little like nothing had ever happened.

She stared down at her feet, dangling a few feet above the ground. Grass was poking through the snow that hadn't yet melted, little dark green tips. She sniffed. Her nose was cold and probably pink.

She still hoped that they would not go inside for a long time.

She had finally found a place where it was possible to just stop thinking.

A breeze shook snow from the branches of a large evergreen tree which reached over their hands. It sprinkled Caiti and she scrunched up her nose and shivered. Marlowe laughed and brushed it off her head. She was feeling very shy all of the sudden, like she had just realized, for the first time, that he was more than just her best friend. The transition had seemed so obvious she had never stepped back to appreciate that it was a change at all.

She peeked up at him and her stomach did something very odd. She felt her cheeks get hot and she looked away quickly, hoping that if he saw, he would only think it was from the cold air. He smoothed his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, coming to rest above her hip, and she relaxed into him without a thought, cheek on his shoulder. She stared out without blinking, unable to focus on anything except the feeling of his fingers, drawing loopy patterns beneath her ribcage, and the little whisper sounds they made against the fabric of her coat.

It hit her slowly, and then too fast, like the impossible task of trying to pour just the right amount of syrup: Oh my god, she thought. I'm in love with him.

Her heart was still pounding when they decided to go inside a half an hour later - Marlowe was hungry and her fingers were frozen. He jumped down from their perch and Caiti held her arms out in front of her. "Help, please," she said, because the drop was, for her, much further. They made eye contact and Caiti couldn't hold it. She looked away quickly. Marlowe reached out for her waist and helped her off the wall. But she did not find herself standing up.

"Marlowe," she said. "My feet are _not _on the ground."

He gave her a cheeky grin. It was, she was sure, the first time she had seen that one dimple since before everything had happened.

"I'll put you down if you'll kiss me," he said.

She pecked him on the lips and, although he set her down, he did not let go of her. This time when they made eye contact, she found that she could not look away. Her breath was very short and she was sure she wouldn't be able to speak if she tried.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked and she shut her mouth, nodded, and hoped she wasn't blushing too much. Her face felt very hot.

He took one step back so that she stood higher on the sloping ground than he did and would not have to reach so far, and then he just lingered, hands loosely clasped behind her lower back, and Caiti couldn't breathe. Why was he drawing this out when she was so nervous she couldn't even look at him?

"Oh my god," she said finally. "Just kiss me." And when he did, Caiti hoped she was conveying at least a little portion of what was making her feel like this was all brand new.

At some point, she had moved both her hands to his face, something she didn't realize until they broke apart. She dropped them quickly and fixed her gaze on her feet.

"Hey," he said. He lifted one hand to her chin, tapping it up with two fingers. She lifted her countenance, but not her eyes. "What's up?"

"I don't know," she said, which was a lie. She chanced a glance up at him and regretted it instantly. "I don't know."

He waited a beat before he said, "Okay," and shifted to stand next to her so they could start heading inside for dinner. Caiti's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She had to do it now, before she chickened out. They were three quarters of the way to the castle before Caiti finally steeled herself and stopped walking very abruptly. "Marlowe, I love you," she said.

He stopped too. They stood a foot or two apart. "What?" he said. He was blinking rhythmically, lips parted, the smallest crease lining his forehead.

Caiti folded her arms over her belly because she did not know what to do with them and also because all the flip flopping inside was making her feel a little nauseous. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I-" She stopped and shook her head. Her hair shimmied around her. "I don't know how else to say it."

Marlowe looked stunned. All the sudden, she felt like crying. The space behind her nose buzzed. She pinched in the corners of her eyes and stared down at his feet.

"Me too," he said quietly. Caiti hugged herself a little tighter. He stepped closer, reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You know that, right?"

Her lower lip quavered. She did not know why she felt like crying. She unwrapped her arms and hugged him, forearms against his sides. Her fingers gripped the back of his jacket, by the shoulder blades and she pressed her face into the pocket on his chest to try to hide the tears that were now starting to fall.

Her plan didn't work though. She tried to hold in a sob but her back shook and it came out anyway. "Hey, why are you crying?" he asked, smoothing his hand down the back of her head and across her back.

Caiti shook her head, forehead sliding back and forth against the fabric of his coat. "Caiti," he said. "Oh my god, I love you too. You have to know that."

He let go to look at her and Caiti, suddenly unsupported, sunk down to hover above the ground in a squat with her face in her hands. Marlowe crouched down next to her and tried to prise her fingers away. "Caiti, what's going on?" he asked. She dropped her hands to around her knees and ducked her head to wipe her tears away on her jeans.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know." She finally looked at him. Her mouth was doing that funny thing where it wants to smile, but it's confused by the tears and so it wobbles at the ends of an otherwise straight line. She bit down on her bottom lip to try to stop it. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why-"

But Marlowe cut her off. He had just kissed her again. He broke apart from her shortly after, stood, and helped her back to standing before he resumed. When they separated again, Caiti felt lightheaded from feeling so many things at once. She took a long deep breath, staring at Marlowe's sternum so she would not have to look at him. "I'm happy," she said after a few seconds. "I'm just... showing it in a weird way." Marlowe laughed and pulled her in for another hug.

"C'mon, you weirdo," he said. "Let's get inside."

* * *

The following Saturday, after Caiti's final apparation lesson before their exam, she drifted through the crowd of people on her way out, trying to find Theo - a difficult task due to the fact that most of the shoulders in front of her were significantly taller. Caiti had finally managed to apparate that day, granted into the wrong hoop; it had been quite a shock to find herself nose to nose with someone else. Luckily, they had they all decided it had been a great joke), but still, it was an accomplishment. She had, so far, been unable to do anything.

Marlowe insisted that once you had done it, you would never understand why you hadn't been able to in the first place. Said it was like falling asleep. "You don't think about it. You just do it," he'd told her. But Caiti had never been very good at falling asleep either.

Thankfully, she had been able to sign up for the extra practice sessions in Hogsmeade at the end of the lesson. Unfortunately, this meant that she had lost Theo, who had been nearby, while she stood in line to sign her name on the list.

She finally caught up to him out the door where the crowd thinned out, everyone heading in their different directions.

She shoved through a couple of girls who were walking too slowly and blocking the whole hallway to reach him. "Theo," she said. She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Caiti-cat. What can I do for you?" he asked, with a pleasant smile.

"You feel like listening?" she asked.

Theo glanced at his friends who had all stopped their own conversation and were peering at the two of them with curious looks. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Let's... I dunno, let's go somewhere." He turned back to his friends. "I'll meet up with you guys later, cool?'

They muttered goodbyes, some of them smirking, or exchanging looks. Theo put his hand on her back to lead her away, but dropped it once they had separated from the remaining crowd of sixth years. They headed down a long and quiet hallway. No one was there except the Gryffindor House Ghost, Sir Nicholas, who had just drifted through the wall. He tipped his whole head at them, right off his neck like a hinge, and then he continued through the wall opposite.

"Alright, what's up?" said Theo. Caiti thought his voice sounded much too loud in the quiet, echoing hallway so she kept hers down when she spoke.

"Before Christmas, Professor Pym gave me this note - said she wanted me to learn an extra potion, for a challenge you know? She does that sometimes. Knows it's what I want to go into."

Theo nodded. He had, before he dropped the subject, benefited greatly from Caiti's potions expertise. Of course, as they had broken up just before O.W.L.'s, he had realized at an inopportune time just how much help he'd been getting. His grade had not been spectacular. Caiti had only learned this recently.

"Well... obviously we didn't know... I mean- how could we have, right? It was a coincidence. Uhm- I've been learning to make the wolfsbane potion. And I want to make it for Marlowe. I can do it now. I've done it right the last four times. And- well, I haven't told him yet, and I don't know how. I'm really nervous about it."

"You can make," said Theo. He paused for effect and then finished, "the wolfsbane potion." It was not a question.

"I mean... yeah... it took a lot of prac-"

"God, no wonder everyone in our year says they suck at potions. You don't give anyone a chance, do you?"

She gave him a weak smile.

"No, really, Caiti. You shouldn't be worried about telling him. I think he'll be happy. I would be."

"You don't think... you don't think it'll be weird?"

He shook his head. "I don't. When is the next... I mean, when do you give it to him?"

"It's next week," said Caiti. "Four days from now, actually." Theo nodded again, looking solemn. Cait's heart rate had gone up at just the thought of the full moon. Already, she had noticed Marlowe acting and looking differently. The bags under his eyes had darkened and his smile seemed to sag a bit. Worse though, was they way he kept closeting himself up alone and how he skulked around, not making eye contact with anyone when he had to go somewhere. The Marlowe from just a week ago was nowhere to be found.

When Caiti spoke again, her voice was even softer than before. "Why I'm really nervous," she said, "is because we still haven't talked about it." Theo looked at her, his face stoic and unreadable. "I tried... sort of...but when he was in a good mood, I didn't want to ruin it, you know? I didn't want to remind him. And if he was in a bad mood... well I didn't want to make it worse." She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robes and looked down, chewing on the insides of her cheeks.

"I get that," said Theo quietly.

They had reached the end of the long hall, but they turned a corner and continued to walk.

"Maybe... I don't know, this might be a stupid idea... maybe you could just not tell him. And surprise him."

Caiti looked up. The idea appealed to her, mostly because she wouldn't have to risk bringing up the subject until time had brought it up of it's own accord.

"Yeah," she said. She rolled her lips together. "Maybe I will."


	27. Wolfsbane

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Seven. Wolfsbane.

Caiti had been given special permission to leave muggle studies, her final class of the day, twenty minutes early, so that she could head down to the dungeon and start work on the wolfsbane potion. All day, she had dreaded the moment she would have to begin. She was terrified of so many things: of messing up the recipe, of giving it to Marlowe, of how she would feel that night, worrying about him, of how he would act the next morning.

All through her lesson, she ignored Bill's attempts to joke with her as usual and stared at the clock at the front of the room. She watched seconds tick by until the minute hand showed twenty till and, very quietly, she began to pack up her things.

"What are you doing?" Bill hissed. Caiti just shook her head and put a finger to her lips. She stood and tiptoed to the door, sending a small nod and a mouthed "thank you" to her professor, and then she stepped out the door. Every eye in the class was on her as she left.

All the way to the dungeons, she was fidgety and restless. The butterflies that had been messing with her stomach all day were back full force, and her heart, which had been pounding on and off whenever she thought about that night, had just sped up again. She couldn't stop wringing out her hands and tugging at the chain of her necklace, just for something to do.

Either too soon or not soon enough - Caiti could not decide which - she had arrived outside Professor Pym's office. She let herself in as they had discussed; class was still in session for another seven or eight minutes. Her cauldron sat in the corner, right where she'd left it, empty and dust-free.

She allowed herself thirty seconds of pure terror.

Thirty seconds turned into ten minutes. When Professor Pym entered, Caiti was still standing by the door, biting her lower lip and staring at the empty cauldron. She put a hand on Caiti's shoulder and asked, "Would you like some tea?"

Caiti hesitated and then she nodded slowly. Professor Pym led Caiti over to her usual chair and she sat down. A few moments later, she handed Caiti a teacup and saucer and poured out the tea, pale yellow with a soothing herbal aroma. Caiti lifted it and took a sip. It was warm and comforting.

"There's more to this than skill, isn't there?" said Pym in a low voice from across the desk. Caiti nodded again. She took another sip of tea.

Professor Pym didn't say anything else. Her way was very subtle, very few words, only suggestions towards what she wanted her students to understand, but it was effective. She had a knack for saying just the right thing, just enough. Caiti stood again and began to gather the ingredients she needed. She was completely silent as she placed them all on the work surface and sat down again to begin preparing them. She worked more slowly than usual in these early steps, meticulously.

When she was finished, she took another sip of her tea. It was beginning to go cold now, but it helped her procrastinate a few seconds longer. Finally, she took out her wand, pointed it at the cauldron and said _"Aguamenti." _She lit the flame underneath, and she began to work. With the first ingredient in the water, Caiti calmed down at once. Her work was all that mattered: neat and orderly and precise. She thought of nothing else.

* * *

Immediately after classes ended, Marlowe stalked up to his room and laid himself flat down on his bed. He glared up at the deep blue hangings above his four poster. His mind was completely blank. He did not move for an hour and a half, not until he heard a soft knock on the door, two quick, a short pause, and then a third strike. "Marlowe?" said a voice.

Caiti. He shut his eyes and sighed out his nose. He could not talk to her right now.

The door opened a crack and through his peripheral vision he was able to see half her face peeking inside.

"Marlowe?" she said again. "Can I come in? Just for a minute?"

He began to push himself to seated, knowing she was going to come in regardless, but he kept his mouth shut. She opened the door just enough to slip through. It was the first time he had seen her that day. He had been avoiding the great hall and, when he had met with the headmaster a few days before to discuss the details of his full moon accommodations, he had tried to get out of going to class too, but Professor Osset had insisted he go anyhow.

He felt awful, exhausted and worn down, a little feverish even. This time was worse than the first, because he knew what was coming, and because, with less to wonder about, he was more acutely aware of his own body's changing nature. He felt like a different person.

Caiti looked very pretty, with her hair tied half back as usual. He saw the blue ribbon as she turned to shut the door. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her eyes a little glassy. And then he saw what she was holding. Though he could not see inside yet, the contents of the goblet in her hand were unmistakeable. Thin, white smoke curled over the edges, dissipating before it reached very far from the rim of the cup.

Marlowe's insides boiled with shame. He felt hot all of the sudden, though the room was dark and drafty. He looked away from her.

"Sorry," she said very quietly. "I know you want to be alone and stuff... I just wanted to bring this for you." She took a few tentative steps towards him and set the goblet down on his bedside table. It made a dull clunk against the wood surface. She stepped back and added, "I made it."

Marlowe sat up a little straighter though his gaze remained directed firmly at his bedcover. "You made it?" he asked in a low voice. His tone was more spiteful than he had anticipated, but he found he did not regret it.

Caiti seemed to have caught the undertone too, because when she spoke again, she sounded nervous, scared even. Scared of him, probably. He bit down hard. "It's really difficult," she said. "But I've been working on it for months. Since before Christmas. And... and I practiced every day when you were gone, and now I can do it. I promise it's safe. It's perfect. I made sure. And-"

"I thought Professor Pym was going to make it," Marlowe interrupted.

Caiti hesitated. She took another step back. "She was," she said. "But we'd been practicing... she was helping me learn. Like I said, it was before Christmas... we didn't know... but then I thought, since I'd been learning it anyway, I could just... make it for you."

Marlowe finally looked up at her and he felt oddly satisfied when he saw how wide her eyes had gone, how lined her forehead. "I just wanted a way to say thank you," she finished. Her voice went very quiet again.

Marlowe glared at her. He was not sure why he felt so aggressive towards her all the sudden, but it felt good to have someone to be angry at. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that Caiti should be the receiver of all the crap he was feeling. It was because of her, after all, that he had landed in this situation at all.

"I can leave you alone if you want..." she said. Her round face suddenly looked very childlike, naive.

"No," said Marlowe. "You wanted to talk about it, right? So let's talk about it. Why not. What've you got to say?"

Caiti blinked a few times and her lips parted. Very slowly, she slid her arms across her belly to hug herself. She clutched her sides and though she remained standing up straight with her shoulders back, she tucked her chin down and looked slouched anyway, vulnerable.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I- I just wanted to tell you thank you. I just- you saved my life." She sucked in her lower lip for a second. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't know what to say?" he smirked. "You've been _burning _to talk about this for a month."

"Not like this, Marlowe," said Caiti quickly. "Please, not like this. I don't want to argue with you. I was only trying to help-"

"Maybe you should think twice about that," said Marlowe darkly. "Helping people doesn't always turn out to be a good thing, does it?"

Caiti's eyes had begun to water. She blinked hard and swallowed and was able to stop it temporarily.

"Last time I helped someone, I got bitten by a werewolf."

"Marlowe," Caiti pleaded. "Please-"

But now he'd gotten started, he couldn't stop. There was so much brooding inside him that he had not let out - not to his mother, not to Caiti or Sean, not to anyone. He looked directly at her now, eyes narrowed. Caiti looked terrified, but she held his gaze anyway. "I saved your life, and I gave up mine. You know what I just found out a few days ago? I got dropped by the Bats because" - he held up his fingers to form air quotes - 'my condition is dangerous, volatile, and not acceptable for a professional quidditch team of _wizards. _Not werewolves.'"

All the sudden, Caiti's fear slipped away into pity. "Oh Marlowe," she said. "I'm so sorry. That's-" But Marlowe did not want her pity. It made the embarrassment overwhelm him again. Pity made it so clear that he was different, that he was less than what he used to be.

"I saved your life and now, once a month, I have to turn into something else and take drugs to suppress my desire to _kill_ people. I have to wear this idiotic badge every day so no matter where I go, people know I'm dangerous. So people can judge me, and mock me, and deny me things. I did that for you, Caiti. Thank you is not going to cut it."

Caiti dropped her hands from around her waist. Her fingers curled into fists. She mouthed soundlessly for a moment before she was able to come up with what she wanted to say. "I never asked you to!" she said. Her voice came out somewhere between a scream and a gasp. "I _never _asked you to do that. I never _would _have asked you to do that. Please don't pretend this is my fault. It just _happened. _And it sucks. I hate it. I _hate _seeing you unhappy and I _hate _when people make fun of you, and what that quidditch team did... Marlowe, that's illegal. They can't legally deny you a position on the team just for having lycanthropy."

"Oh don't call it that," snapped Marlowe. "Call it what it is, Caiti. I'm a werewolf."

"So what?" she yelled. "I don't care. I don't care what you are. I love you, Marlowe. Please, don't be like this. I don't want to fight with you. I was just trying to help. Listen... we can- we can write a letter to the team. We can-"

"This isn't about quidditch, Caiti. This is my whole life. I don't need your help. _I don't need you." _He punctuated each of these last words and his voice seemed to ring out after he had finished speaking.

Caiti stumbled back towards the door like he had physically hit her. He saw the corners of her lips quiver, but she took a deep steadying breath, stood up tall and said in a perfectly even, low voice, "Well, drink this anyway." She nodded to the potion, still sitting full on his nightstand. "Don't waste it." Then she turned, flung the door open and slammed it behind her. The empty water jug by Sean's bed shook with a soft metallic clattering. He heard Caiti finally let out a sob behind the door and then her footsteps running down the stairs. He stared at the place she had gone for thirty seconds, seething.

He breathed heavily and he felt tense all over. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he grabbed the goblet and downed the potion. He could not help but notice that the taste, while still rank, was slightly more bearable than the last time. No doubt this was Caiti's expertise.

Guilt set in at once.

* * *

Downstairs in the common room, everyone had heard the end of the argument and had put their heads together to discuss. Caiti came flying out from the stairs to the boys dormitory and ran straight across the room and up to her own dorm. Evelyn turned to Sean. "You talk to him, I'll talk to her?"

He nodded and they split, heading up opposite staircases.

Sean opened the door to his room quietly and went to sit on the edge of his bed, next to Marlowe's. His friend was lying on his back but he rolled over to face away from Sean as soon as he saw him come in.

Sean wasn't quite sure what to say. He felt a little angry with Marlowe for the way he had talked to Caiti, but he was also quite certain that, if it were any other day, his words wouldn't have come out that way. As much as he didn't want to make excuses for him hurting his sister, something he had specifically made Marlowe promise not to do on more than one occasion, Sean couldn't help giving him a little allowance.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally.

"Go away," said Marlowe.

"Why did you talk to Caiti like that?"

"Go away," said Marlowe again. "I don't want to talk to you."

Sean waited a minute before he tried again. "You don't know what she was like... Caiti. When it happened. You didn't have to see her. She was screaming. She wouldn't stop. We couldn't get her off of you. I've never seen her that way. It was awful. And then she cried for days and-"

"Stop, okay?" Marlowe sat up and turned around. His eyes were very red and he was shaking. "Just stop. I don't want to hear it." His voice was beginning to shake now too. "I regret it, okay? I regret everything. I messed up. Just please leave me alone." Marlowe turned away again and Sean stood tentatively.

"Fine," he said quietly, at least satisfied that Marlowe recognized his mistake. Sean walked back out of the room and back to the sofa he had been seated on with Evelyn. He did not reopen the book he'd been reading from, but slumped down low in the cushions so that his shoulders were level with the top of the back of the couch, and his head could rest on top of it. He stared up at the domed ceiling and waited for Evelyn to return.

* * *

Across the common room, in the sixth year girl's dormitory, Evelyn found Caiti seated cross legged on her bed with her covers bunched up in her lap. She leaned forward onto the pile of blankets sobbing and did not look up when Evelyn came in.

"Caiti?" said Evelyn. She came to her bed and sat herself down, placing one hand on her back. "Caiti, are you alright?"

Caiti sat up a little, took a deep shaky breath, let it out with a sob, and shook her head. Evelyn smoothed her hand over her back and said, "That's okay. You're allowed to feel sad." Caiti hugged Evelyn tight and Evelyn matched her. "Just let it out," she said. "You can cry." Evelyn continued to draw her fingers up and down Caiti's back in a soothing, maternal sort of way until Caiti pulled away from her several minutes later.

She stood up and went to her trunk and began to rummage around for something. She pulled out a bottle, mostly empty, of a light blue potion that shimmered a little when it hit the light from the window. Caiti tipped most of what remained into the cup by her bed, put the stopper back in, and drank it. She set the cup down next to the bottle, and curled up on the bed.

"He's such a jerk," said Caiti. "God, I hate him. I can't believe-" But she stopped and a few more tears slipped out. She hid her face in her pillow.

"You don't hate him," said Evelyn. "And he's not a jerk. A bit of an idiot, yes, but not a jerk."

Caiti sniffed. Though she was still crying, the potion was obviously taking effect already. "I think he just messed up," said Evelyn quietly.

"I still think he's a jerk," Caiti mumbled into her pillow. Evelyn laughed.

"Okay," she said.

She sat with her for a while longer until Caiti turned her face out from the pillow again and said, "I'm going to go to bed." It was just past six o'clock.

"Do you want me to bring you some dinner first?" asked Evelyn.

Caiti shook her head. "Not hungry," she said.

"Okay," said Evelyn again. She tucked Caiti's hair behind her ear. "Tell me if you need anything, alright?"

Caiti nodded and Evelyn stood to leave. Just as she reached the door, she heard her say, "Thanks, Ev."

Evelyn smiled just a little bit. "Love you, Caiti."

"Love you too."

Downstairs again, Evelyn found Sean had beat her back. She joined him on the couch, sitting down as low in her seat as he was so that their heads were even. She turned her face to him. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not well," said Sean. He looked at her too, but only for a second before he resumed staring at the arched support beams in the ceiling. "But he regrets it, at least."

"I thought so," said Evelyn.

"How's Caiti?" he asked.

She sighed. "Sad," she said. "She took some of that potion she gave you in the first task and that helped a little."

Sean reached his arm up and around to rest over Evelyn's shoulders. She readjusted her head, and snuggled up to him. With her ear near his heart, she synced the pace of her inhales and exhales up with his.

Just then, Marlowe emerged down the stairs. With his head held low and his eyes on the floor, he slunk around the edge of the common room and out the door without a word or a glance at anyone.

"I hope he's alright," said Evelyn. "It can't be easy..."

Sean nodded. "No it can't," he agreed. After several minutes in silence, Evelyn sat up, pulled a hair tie off her wrist and began to gather her thick, red hair into a ponytail. "Shall we go to dinner?" he asked.

She nodded. It was getting late already. They would catch the tail end. Most of the common room had cleared out while she had been upstairs with Caiti.

They stood to go, but Sean paused and looked at her. "I love you, Ev. I don't tell you that enough.

Evelyn smiled and pecked him on the mouth to reciprocate the sentiment. "Come on, I'm hungry," she said. She wrapped her arm around his waist and he put his around her shoulders as they headed out the door.

* * *

The next morning, Marlowe felt awful. Instead of returning to the castle in the morning for class as had been planned, he stayed hiding out in the little building they had made for him in the forest. There was not much to it but four bare walls and one uncomfortable sofa which he was now sat on with his head bowed down over his elbows. He had a pounding headache, not to mention the wracking guilt from his conversation with Caiti.

He was not quite sure that Professor Osset really understood his position. In his earnest to re-incorporate Marlowe into Hogwarts life, he had not, apparently, stopped to consider the physical effects of the full moon. The symptoms had been much less pronounced when his whole existence was lying around in a hospital bed and going to movies with his mother. This time around, trying to juggle school work and quidditch and the constant stream of insults being thrown at him by the Slytherins, he had felt for the last week like had a bad head cold without the congestion. His head had felt heavy and a little like he was hearing everything through glass, and then that last day he had not been able to eat anything at all.

His stomach growled now, but the thought of going to the great hall that morning with everyone kept him where he was. There was not a student in the school who did not know that last night had been the full moon. And worse, Caiti would be there. Every time he thought about seeing her, he felt hot shame creeping in from the edges of his hairline to the tips of his fingers. He didn't know what he could possibly say to her that would make it better. He was so embarrassed that he had raised his voice, that he had insinuated that any of this was her fault. He wished he had run after her. He wished he had just said thank you for the potion.

He laid back on the couch with his knees up, because it was not long enough to stretch out on. He had not slept at all, just as the last time. He did not think he would ever be able to, even without a bad fight with Caiti just before. His eyes burned, but the couch cushions were lumpy and the room was cold and a little damp. It had rained that night, a cold, early spring rain.

The scent of the rain seeped in the cracks under the door: a little fresh, a little fishy, and a little like dirt. He shivered. If he estimated correctly, the first lesson had probably begun, meaning he could safely head back through the forest and up to the castle. He would just need to be careful to avoid the greenhouses, and one could never be quite sure where the care of magical creatures class would be headed, so he'd have to keep an eye out for them too.

His muscles ached when he stood, but it felt reassuring to be back in his own body so he almost enjoyed the feeling. He pushed through the door, shoved his hands in his pockets, and began his slow trek up to the castle.

Lukewarm sunlight poked in through the treetops, not quite enough to warm his skin. By that afternoon, he thought, the temperature would probably not be too bad, but for now, his breath fogged in front of his mouth when he breathed out. He balled his hands into fists inside his pockets for extra warmth.

The path was mostly clear, but it was still littered with twigs, branches, and brittle, brown leaves leftover from the fall, many of them now lace-like with the frequency at which they had been chewed through by the forest-dwelling insects. The debris crunched and cracked under his feet, the only sound besides the birds hiding up in the trees.

He thought that if it had been any other day, any other situation, he might have enjoyed the walk. It was nice to be alone, outside. It was quite peaceful.

Or at least it would have been, had he not felt so guilty. When he got back to Ravenclaw tower, he planned to closet himself up in his room again, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Perhaps, if he felt confident, he could pop by the kitchens for a visit with the houselves before he headed up. He really was very hungry.

At the edge of the forest, Marlowe took a wide path around the greenhouses, hoping to stay as hidden as possible and then, head down low, he entered the castle, checked a large iron clock, numbered in roman numerals for the time, and, estimating that he had about thirty minutes to get a bite to eat and make it up to Ravenclaw tower before class let out, he hurried down to the kitchens.

* * *

Marlowe did not come out of his room again until that evening. Sean had been up to see him several times since classes got out and had brought him some dinner. Marlowe thought he was being surprisingly kind about the whole incident, which surprised him, because he had rather expected Sean to want to punch him or, at the very least, give him the silent treatment. He had a feeling Evelyn had something to do with it. She was so reasonable.

The fourth time Sean came upstairs to ask, again, if he was absolutely sure he did not want to join them downstairs, perhaps apologize to Caiti, Marlowe ignored his question yet again and asked, "Can Evelyn come up here?"

Sean frowned, surprised by this. Marlowe understood. He and Evelyn had never talked much before. But after their late night conversation recently, he had begun to wonder why not. She was really very sweet. He was not sure he'd ever met someone who was more patient.

"Uh... yeah," said Sean. "Probably."

"Can you get her for me?" Marlowe asked.

Sean paused again, taking a step towards the door. "Yeah, alright."

He returned a few minutes later with Evelyn, who smiled at him and said, "Hey, Marlowe. What's up?"

"I wanna talk to you," he said. He glanced at Sean, feeling awkward. "Alone, if that's okay..."

"Oh," said Sean. They looked at each other. Marlowe didn't know what to say, so he just didn't. Sean looked at Evelyn who gave him a nod that it was okay, and then he left.

When the door was shut, Evelyn bent one leg behind her onto Sean's bed and sat down on top of it.

"You wanna talk about Caiti?" she asked.

"Well... yeah," he said. She waited patiently. He thought she would make a good therapist. She knew when to say something and when to just wait. Marlowe took a long time to gather his thoughts. He stared at his knees. "I messed up," he said finally.

"You did," she agreed.

"I was an idiot," he said.

"Yes," said Evelyn.

"A big one."

She smiled, tipping her head to one side.

"I think Caiti hates me, and I don't know what to do. Evelyn, I'm- I'm so embarrassed about it. I didn't mean- I mean, did you... did you hear?"

She nodded. "I think everyone did," she said quietly.

"Crap," said Marlowe. He put his face in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

When he did not start talking again, Evelyn leaned forward and said, "Marlowe, look at me."

He peeled his hands away and looked at her. Her blue eyes were intense, but still kind.

"Listen. You were a bit of an idiot, I'm not going to sugar coat it. You were rude and unkind, and you yelled which her scared her. You said some stuff that really hurt. And Marlowe, she told me she _made_ that potion for you and you-" Marlowe gave her a look of skepticism and she interrupted herself to say, "I didn't know until last night either. I don't think she told anyone what she was up to. Anyway, she worked really hard to learn how to do that, and you didn't even say thank you."

Marlowe felt that hot shame creeping in again. He knew all of this. He had thought it himself. But hearing someone else say it was much, much worse. "I don't think you're going to be able to just win her over again right away," said Evelyn. "But," she added, in a much lower tone, "she definitely doesn't hate you."

"At this point," said Marlowe, "that's not very reassuring."

Evelyn smiled again. He did not understand why she kept doing that. Smiling was the last thing he felt like doing.

Evelyn laughed at the look of disgust he was giving her. "Just say you're sorry, okay? That's all you can do, for now. That and give her some time."

Marlowe sighed and looked away from her. To apologize to Caiti felt like a bigger hurdle than facing one of Sean's Triwizard Tasks. He did not think he would be able to look her in the eye, he was so embarrassed by what he had said to her.

"You'll get through it, Marlowe," she said.

Later that night, when Sean came up to go to bed, Marlowe followed him into the bathroom and stood in front of one of the sinks, staring at his own ghoulish reflection. He was nearing forty eight hours without sleep and the bags under his eyes were puffier than ever.

"What's it like," Marlowe asked, "when you talk to Evelyn about like... disagreements and things?" he asked. His voice echoed a little off the tile in the room. Sean spit out his toothpaste and smirked.

"She tell you everything you did wrong?" he asked.

Marlowe nodded.

"Yeah, she does that. She doesn't lie to you if you messed up. But she never raises her voice at you either. I don't know how she does it. She's so patient."

"I don't get her," said Marlowe, frowning at his reflection. He ran a hand through his hair. "How can she just tell you you're the worst person ever and you still don't feel mad at her?"

Sean laughed. "She only tells you what's true. It's what you already know. So you can't be mad if you agree with her. Makes you feel like crap though."

"Yeah it does," said Marlowe.

Sean started to head back to the bedroom. Marlowe followed. "Hey," Sean said, "are you... gonna talk to her soon?"

Marlowe could not look at him. He knew that however well Sean was hiding it, he was not happy with Marlowe. He was protective of Caiti. Marlowe was glad of it, actually.

"I'm going to try," he said. He hoped it was true.


	28. Complicated

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Eight. Complicated

By the following morning, Marlowe was anxious to see Caiti and apologize to her. He decided he had dreaded the moment long enough. It was time to fix it.

She was not at breakfast when he, Sean, and Evelyn arrived, but this was not unusual so he shoveled down his food much faster than was strictly necessary, and then sat drumming his fingers on his knees and the table with his eyes glued to the door.

It was Saturday morning, which Marlowe thought was a great sign. They would have all kinds of time to talk about it, and Evelyn had said that Caiti liked to talk about things. Everything was going to be fine. The sun was out. Easter was the following day.

And best of all, Evelyn's parents had just sent her a large package of muggle sweets, including Marlowe's favorite coconut and chocolate bar which Evelyn had already passed over to him.

She had just pulled out a couple of magazines from the bottom of the box and was reading over the cover stories with a frown on her face. "Oh good," she said, tapping one of the covers.

Sean peered over at the magazine to see what she was talking about.

"Taylor Swift has just had a break-up," she said. "That means she'll have a new album out soon."

This made Marlowe, who had a certain awareness of muggle pop-culture thanks to his mother, and who was also a little high on hope, burst out laughing. Evelyn grinned at him as she began loading things back into the box. Sean looked back and forth between the two of them; he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

"Did Evelyn O'Sullivan just make a joke?" asked Marlowe.

"Hey, I can be funny," she said, pouting.

"Well, let it out more often, then. Don't keep that stuff in," he said, still chuckling.

"Who's Taylor Swift?" asked Sean, who had continued to look politely puzzled through this whole exchange.

Evelyn opened her mouth in mock offense and punched him in the shoulder. "Sean!" she said. "She's a singer. I must have told you about her a hundred times."

"Well- how do you know then?" he asked Marlowe.

"I just spent a month with my muggle mother-" he began to say, but he stopped abruptly, because Caiti had just entered. He stood up and walked away from them. Caiti had done her hair in two french braids today, something he had always liked. When she saw him coming, her face hardened and she shoved past him when he tried to stop and talk to her.

"Wait!" he called. "Caiti, please. I don't want to fight with you. I just wanted to apologize."

She swiveled around and glared at him with narrowed eyes and tight lips. "Don't mock me," she said and she turned to go again.

"Caiti, please," he said again. "I'm sorry."

She let out a high, stilted laugh with a little jerk of her head, and said, "It's gonna take more than sorry."

It was only then that Marlowe had realized how much he had sounded like her only a few days ago, his words almost an exact copy. The hopeful bubble he'd been protecting himself in all morning popped.

He saw her sit down, not with Evelyn and Sean, but with _Theo. _His stomach twinged and he stalked out of the room, not sure if he felt more angry or anxious or just let down.

* * *

That afternoon, there was Quidditch practice. Marlowe had already been less than excited to go _before _the latest debacle with Caiti, and now he felt less motivated than ever. They'd missed two practices that week because of the full moon, a fact which had not helped Marlowe to cope with the fact that after the match against Hufflepuff, his quidditch career would be over for good. He no longer had any idea what he wanted to do after school, and even if he _had_ had a backup plan, he was not holding out hopes that anyone would be keen on hiring him. Especially not after Mr. Fenwick's situation. The pity Marlowe had felt for him lately had developed into bitterness again.

He said very little to his team as they got ready, and became especially snappy and brooding when Theo did not respond to his directions. Theo appeased him - barely - with a curt nod, no eye contact. It was so like Theo to be like that. Petty and childish.

They headed out to the field and up in the air. Marlowe was finding himself in a worse mood by the minute. He took a few laps on his broom, hoping the fresh April air would clear his head. The air felt thick with hesitating rain, but clean and promising anyhow.

It almost worked to calm him, but then he saw Theo and Clara hovering side by side in midair - Clara, his partner, who he'd always liked and respected. They gave him a sidelong glance, the kind that made it impossible to miss that he was being talked about. He flew over to them far too quickly, and rocketed straight between them. "God, what are you doing?" Theo shouted, and Marlowe swiveled around to stare at them. Clara had had to roll over in midair to avoid a collision and was looking rather startled and windblown.

"Warm up!" Marlowe snapped. "Don't just sit there. Let's go."

He flew away again in a huff and he could actually feel everyone's eyes on his back.

A few minutes later he sent them in groups to start going through the drills and plays they'd all been working on for the last few weeks. He was so stirred up that every time someone faltered, he couldn't help but shout at them. As Marlowe was none too happy with him for gaining Caiti's attention when he couldn't get it himself, Theo got the worst of his bad attitude.

Hunting down the snitch, he blew past Elliot, accidentally knocking him sideways - nearly off his broom. The glasses he had only recently acquired tumbled down towards the quidditch pitch, and Elliot only barely managed to re-grip his broom in time to stay upright.

Elliot steadied himself, blinked a few times, and then burst out laughing, but Marlowe had already pelted towards Theo, near the ground now with the snitch in his hand. Marlowe couldn't see the humor.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "Coulda knocked him off his broom. Broken his glasses, haven't you? Almost killed him."

Theo recoiled slightly. "God, calm down," he said, wrinkling his nose. "You can fix his glasses. It's a first year spell, _reparo_. And anyway, he's fine. Look, he's laughing."

"Yeah, well he's also eleven. So just... _don't." _Marlowe started to rise up again, fuming.

"It wasn't on purpose! Stop acting like a-"

"Like a what?" asked Marlowe darkly. "What were you going to say?"

Theo set his face. "Like a jerk," he said loudly. "You've already broken Caiti. No need to mess with everyone else too." He turned and began to fly away, towards the ground and the locker room.

"Practice isn't over yet, you idiot! You can't leave!" shouted Marlowe, but Theo had just landed.

He stepped off his broom and bellowed "WHO CARES?! Maybe if you stopped yelling at everyone, we'd want to play, but _no one _wants to be here." He stormed away, turning one last time at the entrance to the pitch. He opened his palm and let the snitch fly out.

"You catch it," he yelled, and then he was gone. Marlowe hung in the air feeling stunned, and angry, and, somewhere deep down, a little ashamed. He glanced up at the rest of his team. One by one they began to fly down to the ground without looking at him and left the way Theo had, until only Sean was left.

He stopped about a dozen feet away from Marlowe and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Aren't you gonna leave, too?" he snapped.

"Only if you want me too," said Sean.

Marlowe didn't know what to say to this, because he didn't know what he wanted. He was embarrassed about how he'd acted, but he hadn't stopped feeling angry and hurt either.

"Wanna help me catch this snitch?" asked Sean. Marlowe shook his head, took a deep long breath, and then began to rise up again to look for it anyhow. Neither of them were seekers. It took a very long time to both locate and actually claim the little golden ball, but by the time they had finally locked it and the other balls back into the trunk and stowed it away, Marlowe was feeling marginally better. It had been good to have a task that kept his mind off everything. Seeking required perfect focus.

Feeling abashed but still just the tiniest bit proud of the team he had selected, he couldn't help but think that it really was something Theo had been able to catch it at all with Marlowe shouting at him the whole time. Shame crept in again and he began to wish Sean had not been so kind. Sometimes he was too good of a friend. It reminded him of Evelyn, the way Sean could continue to be so kind without letting him forget that he had messed up. Again.

They walked to the locker room in silence while Marlowe debated how to address everything he was thinking about. "Thanks for staying," he said finally.

"Don't worry about it," said Sean.

Marlowe _was _worrying about it though. "How come," he began, running a hand through his hair, "you aren't mad at me?"

"About Caiti," Sean clarified.

Marlowe swallowed hard and nodded.

Sean did not answer right away. They were walking towards the door of the locker room to head back up to the castle by the time he answered. "I know you didn't mean it," he said quietly.

This somehow made Marlowe feel worse rather than better. He was not sure what to say.

Sean opened the door and headed out first with Marlowe close behind, head low.

"Can I have a word?"

It was not Sean's voice. The speaker had an accent.

Marlowe looked up. Oscar was standing just past the entrance to the pitch. He had evidently been waiting for them outside the door. Or at least, for one of them. His eyes were on Sean.

"Uh... yeah," he said. "Yeah, alright. I'll-" He glanced to Marlowe. "Meet you upstairs," he said.

"Oh," said Marlowe. He took a few tentative steps past Sean and then turned around and backed up a few more. He stopped. "Okay. Well. See you."

Sean glanced at him, but didn't say anything else. He and Oscar turned and began to walk the other way and Marlowe was left to walk up to the castle alone.

"You are doing well?" Oscar asked once Marlowe was gone.

"Alright," said Sean. "You?"

Oscar nodded.

"So," said Sean. He and the other champions had really not spoken all that much. He felt uncomfortable, especially because the meeting had been sprung on him unexpectedly, and he was more than a little distracted by the events of that day's practice. "You wanted to talk about something?"

"You 'ave not 'eard anything about the tournament? The third task?"

Sean shook his head. His stomach plummeted to his feet. He had given the tournament next to no thought since the day of the second task, seeing as it had been vastly overshadowed by all the drama surrounding Marlowe's attack. At once, he regretted this oversight with wholehearted longing for two entire months which he should have spent worrying and wondering what was coming in this final hurdle.

"Neither 'ave I," said Oscar thoughtfully. He appeared much more calm than Sean felt, mildly agitated at most. "I 'ave talked to Eline and she 'as not 'eard anything either."

"Do you think they're planning to tell us?" asked Sean. They had been given next to nothing before each of the last tasks, but the little they had been told had at least given him a direction in which to focus his research.

"I am not sure," said Oscar. "There are still almost two months, but nothing 'as been said at all since the second task. No mention... and they are so much longer apart than the first two."

Sean nodded, staring at the ground. "Yeah," he said. "It's odd."

"Anyway," said Oscar. "If you 'aven't 'eard anything... "

"I haven't," said Sean.

"Yes, well. Have a good day, then." He began to go.

"Oscar," said Sean. He turned back. "I'll tell you. If I do."

Oscar nodded, lips quirking just slightly up. "I will do the same."

"Thanks," said Sean. He stuck his thumbs in his pockets, rocked back on his heels and looked down. When he looked up again, Oscar was still there.

"Your friend," he said, frowning. "He is back, then?"

Sean nodded.

"I'm sorry about what 'appened."

"Thanks," said Sean again.

"Well," said Oscar.

"See you," said Sean, after another awkward pause.

Oscar raised a hand in farewell and began to head back towards the Beauxbatons carriage. Sean stood there a minute before he left too, back to the castle. Between Marlowe's attitude and the daunting unknown of the third task, Sean couldn't decide what to worry about first.

* * *

When Marlowe arrived in the common room, the first thing he saw was the back of Caiti's head where she was sitting on the floor. Theo was with her, still in his quidditch robes. Neither of them looked up when he came in. Marlowe ducked his head down and took to the edge of the room on his way to his dorm, hoping he could sneak past them without a confrontation. Caiti would surely not be happy once Theo explained his version of what had happened in practice, as he was surely in the middle of doing. His eyes were narrowed and his cheeks flushed, hands gesturing wildly.

"I'm telling you Caiti," he said when Marlowe was in earshot. "You're lucky you got out when you did." Marlowe half dove into the stairwell, but he could not bring himself to keep heading up. Standing with his back against the wall two steps up, he was concealed but still able to listen in to their conversation. He wanted to hear Caiti's response, to gauge how upset she really was, though he was terrified of what she might say. "He's _dangerous," _Theo finished.

"No he's- he's- I- _Theo," _Caiti spluttered.

"I'm serious, Caiti. You should've seen him. Totally irrational. And he was shouting over little things so imagine something bigger."

"I'm sure there was more to it than that-"

"You don't have to make excuses for him, Caiti. You broke up. He doesn't deserve-"

This was news to Marlowe. Had she been telling people they were over? He felt an awful chill run over his whole body, numbing his face. He stared unblinking at the opposite wall until Caiti cut Theo off.

"We _didn't _break, up, Theo. And I don't plan on it. He's- he's- an idiot, and he really hurt me, and I'm not ready to forgive him yet, but you can't just _say_ things like that about him. I'm hurt, okay? It doesn't mean I hate him. It doesn't mean he's a bad person." Her voice was shaking, but Marlowe felt more relaxed than he had all day. She was actually defending him, even after all the awful things he had said to her.

"Oh, come on Caiti," Theo said, half laughing. "He was a jerk to you and to me and to everyone else. How could you not hate him?"

Marlowe could practically hear her jaw drop open in the silence that followed. "I do not- I never- You know what, just drop it, Theo. I don't want to talk about this." He heard her slamming books shut and making a whole lot of ruckus as she prepared to go. "And for the record, this is why I _did _break up with you. You're always- _judging _people and jumping to conclusions," she said. "It's always all about you and your feelings. _Life doesn't work that way. _It's _always _more complicated than that."

And then she was walking towards where Marlowe was hidden and she caught a glimpse of someone in the stairs. She stopped and they looked at each other. She had angry tears in her eyes. He wanted to say something but no stroke of brilliance came to him. She bit down hard and turned on her heel to walk across the room and up the other staircase.

Still, Marlowe felt light. He was not sure yet how to get her to talk to him again, but hope was back. He would find a way soon.

He realized a short time later that all he had needed to say was thank you.

* * *

Caiti sat cross-legged on her bed with Edison cupped in her hands. She frowned deeply at him, not really seeing anything at all. She wasn't sure why she had snapped at Theo. She regretted being rude to him already. After all, he was her one option at mealtimes besides sitting with Sean and Evelyn who would, undoubtedly, sit with Marlowe. But he was driving her crazy lately. Always complaining about something or other, always quick to tell her all the reasons why he thought she should not be with Marlowe.

She had been reminded for the first time since they had begun talking regularly again why it had just not worked out. Theo was great most of the time, but when he wasn't, he was awful. There was very little in between. She hated to criticize him, even if only to herself, because he had been so, so good to her the past few months, but somewhere in that time, he had slipped back into old habits, old comfort zones. He had begun to treat her the way he had used to, like the only right way for her to do something was the way he would have her do it.

She flopped back against the pillows, knees up, and set Edison on her sternum where he began hopping around happily. His fuzzy, blue fur tickled.

She had given her relationship with Theo so little thought since the beginning of the school year, but so many things that Caiti had forgotten about in their absence had come rushing back in the last day or so. It had not been all bad of course. Theo had often been sweet and thoughtful and he never forgot when she told him something she liked, whether it was chocolate frogs or the color blue or the specific brand of self-inking quills she preferred.

But there were so many things she had overlooked for so long and shouldn't have that now seemed more apparent problems than they ever had while they were still together. How he had gotten short and irritable with her when she tried to joke around while he was doing homework, and how he used to take her graded homework out of her hands without asking and criticize her when she got a worse grade than he did, and how he teased her for her baby face when he knew she was self conscious about how round her cheeks were.

Oddly, more than fueling her anger towards Theo, it made her miss Marlowe. But she didn't miss the Marlowe that had returned at the beginning of March. She missed the Marlowe from before. The Marlowe that had stayed at the Yule Ball with her until two in the morning, and who had consistently asked her to kiss him almost daily for five and a half years, never once giving up on her, even during the brief period in which they had both been dating someone. And she missed his easy jokes and his bright smile and the way his teasing never felt cruel.

But that wasn't the Marlowe she had seen since he returned. There were shades of him, enough that she still believed he had not honestly changed, but was only hiding, only she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to wait for him to come out again.

Still when she thought about the things he had said to her, it stung. Her stomach bubbled with that acidic mixture of fear, embarrassment, and inadequacy - the sort of butterflies that did not make her want to smile. She certainly wasn't prepared to be on speaking terms with him yet. But it also calmed her to know that _she_ knew that Theo had been wrong. She did not hate Marlowe. She did not want to break up with him. It was exactly two weeks ago that she had told Marlowe she loved him. She had meant it, and she still meant it now. It was like she had told Theo - things were always more complicated.

Her situation with Marlowe was perhaps the most twisted, tense, disorganized, complicated mess she had ever gotten herself into.

* * *

Saturday evening, Evelyn headed back down to the common room after she showered to find Sean. She wore another of his old, oversized t-shirts - this time advertising Fillibuster's Fireworks - and a pair of loose fitting purple shorts. She'd pulled her wet hair up into a bun so it wouldn't get her shirt too wet, but beads of excess water still dripped down the back of her neck every so often.

Sean sat exactly where she'd left him, at a table by the window, working his way through a review guide for Care of Magical Creatures. He was hunched over his parchment with his fingers pressed into his temples. When Evelyn reached him, she threaded her arms through the space his arms made between his head and the table and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on the top of his head.

"Hey," he said dully.

"You look stressed," she said.

He let out a short breath through his nose that Evelyn knew was something of a sarcastic laugh.

"Tell me what's stressing you out," she said.

"Honestly," said Sean, "everything but you."

Evelyn smiled a tiny bit in spite of herself. She ducked her head down to press her forehead into the joint of his neck and shoulder and gave him a little squeeze, clasped hands resting against his collarbone.

"So list a couple things," she said. Her voice came out muffled against his shirt. Another drop of water fell off her hair and onto his shoulder so she started to unweave herself from around him and perched on the arm of his chair instead. She stacked her hands on her knees. Sean sat back and gave her a pointed look.

"Caiti. Marlowe. N.E.W.T.s. And the third task," he said, ticking each one off on his fingers.

"Well," said Evelyn. She placed one hand on the back of his neck and drew her fingernails lightly back and forth, curling and uncurling her fingers. "This is the first I've heard you mention the third task, so let's start there."

Sean stayed very still, eyes still locked on hers. "I ran into Oscar after practice," he said. Then he frowned like he'd thought better of something and added, "I mean, I guess I didn't run into him, he came to find me."

"Mmhmm," said Evelyn with her lips slightly pursed. She had found, through many years of being the listener, that it was often best not to say too much until it seemed like most of the story had come out.

"Well he wanted to talk about the third task. He asked if I'd heard anything, which I haven't. Obviously. And he said he and Eline hadn't either. But now like- it's two months away, and it's the last one, so it's probably the hardest, isn't it? And well, they've at least given us a vague direction for the last two tasks. Don't you think they'd have given us some kind of hint by now?"

Evelyn narrowed her eyes in thought. "Maybe the point is to see how you do with no preparation. Maybe it's _supposed_ to be a surprise."

"Well I can answer that question without competing at all," said Sean.

"What question?"

"How well I would do without preparation."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows at him.

"The answer being not well _at all," _said Sean.

"Oh, don't put yourself down," she said with a flippant shake of her head. "You've hardly known a thing these past two times and you've done great."

"Yeah, well... I don't like surprises much," said Sean. "Only good ones, sometimes."

"I know," said Evelyn lightly. "You're a planner. So am I. But that doesn't mean you don't know how to act on the spot."

Sean looked away out the window. It was Evelyn's very favorite time of day - the post-dinner dusk when the sky was not quite dark, but not quite light, and no longer the bright blue of the afternoon but somewhere between purple and gray.

"You remember the day you asked me how I'd feel if you did something like- like what Marlowe did for Caiti?"

Evelyn did not answer verbally, but slid her hand to brush across his upper back now. She could feel the knots and tension without even digging into the muscle. Sean glanced back at her for confirmation. She gave one nod, and he turned to look out the window again.

"I keep thinking about that and wondering what I would do. Because I don't know if I'd- if I'd've done what he did." She knew now why he was not looking at her anymore. Sean did not usually have a problem with eye contact, except when he was admitting something about himself that he had come to believe was true, but probably wasn't.

"I just keep thinking," he continued, "that I'd've just frozen and- I don't know. I just don't think my instincts work that way."

Evelyn kept quiet for a minute while she considered what to say to this. "I don't think Marlowe would've guessed he'd do that, either," she said finally. "I think it was a surprise to him more than anyone."

She felt more than heard Sean's sigh, which was very soft, but perfectly visible in the sudden sagging of his shoulders.

"I don't know," he said. "I think Marlowe's always had more of- whatever that was than me."

"You know what? Let's not make this about Marlowe," she said. "We're supposed to be talking about the third task, and do you want to hear what I think?" She paused for all of one second, but she was not really waiting for his answer. "I'm going to tell you. I think that you are much better at spur of the moment decisions than you think you are and I'm going to give you one major example although I'm sure I could think of a lot more if you gave me some time. Quidditch."

Sean turned to her looking skeptical. He opened his mouth but she said, "Don't argue yet. Just think about it."


	29. The Apparation Test

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Nine. The Apparation Test

"What?" asked Sean.

Evelyn had just shut her paper very quickly.

"Just thought I saw a bug," she said. "Got a bit jumpy." But she gave Sean a significant look when Marlowe wasn't looking.

"Ah," he said, frowning at her in suspicion.

But she needn't have worried. Marlowe was preoccupied, staring down the breakfast table at Caiti who was now refusing to sit with them or with Theo and had instead situated herself all alone. Evelyn had tried to go and sit with her, but Caiti had only said she was nervous about her apparation test that morning and didn't want to speak to anyone.

"D'you really think she doesn't want to talk to anyone or d'you think she just felt bad keeping you away from Sean?" asked Marlowe.

"She really didn't want to talk to anyone," said Evelyn, folding up her paper carefully and placing it inside her bag.

"God, I want to talk to her so bad," he said.

"She'll come around," said Evelyn. She shot Sean a look because he'd been staring at her with a curious frown through this whole exchange and she didn't want Marlowe to pick up on it. He could not know about what she'd just read. Not yet anyway.

A few minutes later, Marlowe sat up a little straighter. Evelyn followed his gaze to where Caiti had been sitting a moment earlier. She was now just beginning to head for the door, following a couple of her fellow sixth years at a distance. Something about the way Marlowe was looking at her made an idea take seed in Evelyn's head.

"Be right back," she said. She grabbed her bag and headed down the aisle after her.

She caught up just outside the door. "Caiti," she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Caiti stopped and turned around. Her face was ghostly white.

Evelyn dug into her bag for the paper and opened up to the second page which held the article she had been reading when she had shut the paper all of a sudden. _"Geminio,"_ she said. The page duplicated and she handed the copy to Caiti. "Read the top article, okay? Whenever you have time."

Caiti hesitated and then, very slowly, she took it, folded it a few times and stuck it in her bag. Evelyn stood there until she'd finished and then she took a deep breath and said, "You'll be fine. Just breathe. Don't worry too much. You can do it, okay?" She pulled Caiti into a tight hug.

"Thanks," said Caiti quietly.

"Alright- I should let you go-"

"Yeah," said Caiti. She didn't move for another few seconds, but when she did, she did so without a word.

Evelyn watched her go before she headed back to the boys.

"What was that about?" asked Sean.

"Just wanted to wish her good luck," said Evelyn.

"With your bag?"

Evelyn waved a hand in dismissal. "Habit," she said.

Marlowe's face had fallen even more.

"I'm gonna go," he said.

When he was safely out the door, Sean turned to her and said. "Show me that article."

Evelyn took it out of her back once again, but when he reached for it, she pulled it back. "Don't you dare tell Marlowe what it says," she said. And then she handed it to him.

The sixth years who had already turned seventeen headed into Hogsmeade for their apparation test early one April Saturday. Theo was somewhere at the front of the group, chatting with his friends noisily, but Caiti had fallen behind to walk on her own, glad for the relative silence and no one taking her attention from herself. The morning was perfect: warm and breezy with a hint of afternoon rain hanging in the air. The clouds shone pink and orange with the sunrise. She watched the sky change and her whole self felt blank. It was refreshing to be that way.

She was almost able to forget that she was walking past the place where she and Marlowe had encountered the werewolf that night. She was almost able to forget that she was feeling more and more guilty every day she did not speak to Marlowe, who had been making every effort to get a minute with her. She was almost able to forget a lot of things.

But the closer they neared town, the more difficult it was to forget her immediate problem: the apparation test.

Caiti did not feel prepared. Her heart pounded as she filled out the form which would, if she passed, serve as the information to go down on her license. Seemed silly to fill it out with the intention of passing though, seeing as she was most certainly not qualified to apparate anywhere. She had managed it twice now, three times if you counted the time she'd splinched the nail on her little toe. (She had known immediately, but had kept the information to herself as it was hidden inside her shoe. In the hospital wing later, she told Raigan that she had only stubbed it.)

Still, she felt those slight successes had been flukes more than any acquired skill.

She signed her name on the top of the form - Caitlyn Eileen O'Connell - and crossed her fingers that she would be able to pull out another fluke today.

The test administrators from the Department of Magical Transportation collected everyone's forms and began calling out names in alphabetical order. Unfortunately, this meant Caiti had a decent amount of time to dwell on her utter lack of confidence, something she knew - though she could not change it - would make it near impossible to apparate.

She fidgeted in her place, watching as each of her classmates successfully turned on the spot and disapparated from the corner they stood on, reappearing with a second loud crack down at the other end of the street. It went too quickly. Her hands were shaking by the time the names they called neared the O's. There were just two people ahead of her now. And then, as quickly as she had registered this, there were none.

"Caitlyn O'Connell," called the administrator nearest the dwindling group of still-to-go's. Caiti stumbled forward. She clasped her hands together and her skin felt like ice. Ahead of her, the sky was darkening with clouds.

"Now if you'll just stand right here, and then you can disapparate to that far corner down the way. You see the others," directed the ministry official. Caiti had lost the capacity to notice anything about the woman. She was like a blank body and a voice that only delivered instructions.

Caiti stood on the place that had been indicated and tried to focus on breathing. Her head had started up a steady anthem of discouragement. _You can't do this, you can't do this, you can't do this._

"Whenever you're ready," the woman prompted. But Caiti stayed frozen still. She tried to visualize the place she wanted to end up the way she had been taught. She tried to tell herself she was wrong, that she _could _do this. That she had done it before. She tried to convince herself that the corner she was supposed to be apparating to was the place she most wanted to be in the entire world, which was maybe the only thing that was true in that moment, because she _did _want to find herself on that corner. She did not want to stand there any longer staring at it and hoping that she would somehow make her body dissipate and rematerialize. She had never felt so solid in all her life.

She could feel the ministry woman readying herself to say something else, to prompt her again, but Caiti did not want to hear it. She gripped her wand tightly, turned on the spot and willed herself with all her might to apparate.

But nothing happened. No squeezing sensation. No pull from under her navel. She remained standing right where she was.

"A second try, if you wish," said the woman kindly, but Caiti could not and would not try again. Her cheeks burned. She took a step back, eyes on the ground and then she began to walk away very quickly, arms over her chest.

She had not even moved. It could not have gone any worse. The first drop of rain hit her square on the nose and sent a shiver all the way up her spine.

* * *

By the time Caiti arrived back at school, she was soaked through and starving. Lunch had to be nearly over now, but she hoped she could grab something quickly before the plates cleared themselves, and better yet - perhaps the great hall would be nearly empty. She really didn't want to see anyone, especially not the people who had been there. She did her best to siphon the water from her clothes with the tip of her wand, but she was worried to wait much longer or lunch would really be over.

She hurried to the great hall and opened the heavy door. Just inside, she spotted Theo and his friends, as well as Amelia and Miriam, gathered together at the end of the Ravenclaw table comparing notes on the apparation test experience. Caiti stopped walking at once. They had not seen her yet. And anyway, the food was already gone. She turned to go, but her shoes were wet and they squeaked loudly when she turned.

"There she is!" said Amelia excitedly. "Caiti! Do you have to take the test again or what?" Miriam giggled shrilly and the boys laughed along with her.

Caiti stood there with her back to them, hair dripping all over the floor.

"You really couldn't move _at all?" _said another voice. Caiti recognized it as Theo's friend Roger, who she had never gotten on with. He was a little pretentious and said whatever was on his mind.

She heard footsteps heading towards the door and she knew she was going to have to move to let them pass, but then Miriam spoke and she couldn't: "Oh, look! Here comes your werewolf boyfriend to defend you! Oh wait- didn't you two break up anyway? Too good for him now aren't you?"

"Or maybe not good enough," said Roger. "Can't even apparate from one end of the sidewalk to the other. Even Wolfy can do that."

Then she felt Marlowe's hand on her back, just fingertips at first and then his whole palm. His hand felt hot, almost burning, but then, she was still very cold.

"Come on, Caiti," he said in a low voice. "Don't listen to them."

Caiti willed herself not to cry. She was not going to cry in front of him.

He led her out the door and around the corner and then he stopped and just looked at her, dead in the eye and he said, "Are you okay?" She hovered there for a few seconds taking very short, shaky breaths and then she just walked away. She took one glance back, but she could not bring herself to say anything.

* * *

Caiti stared at the row of books nearest her with blank eyes. It had been so humiliating. And worse, so public.

For once, she wished she was in a different house, because in Ravenclaw, where constantly excelling and always striving to be, not just your best, but _the_ best were almost universal traits, her blatant failure made almost certain she'd be mocked. Her fellow housemates were not unkind, but they could be blindly cruel. She knew herself to be as capable of this as the rest of them, though she was usually able to keep it in check. It came from a dangerous, blind pride, an ever-burning desire to be right.

It had come out when she'd shouted at Theo, it had come out on every occasion she had seen Marlowe since their argument, when she had shoved away his apologies and refused to hear him out - something she always regretted as soon as he was gone though she would hardly let herself feel it.

The only person she had never seen this side from was Evelyn, who, in her opinion, was nearly perfect except that, in giving so much to others she left too little time for herself.

Why had she even taken the stupid test? She had known she wasn't ready. And now Marlowe knew too, which was even worse. He'd made it perfectly clear he thought her a silly and entertaining way to pass the time, but nothing more. She had taken him far too seriously and she never should have, because he hadn't taken her seriously at all. He was too much of a jokester and she'd just presented him with one more laugh.

She didn't believe herself, though, really. She wanted to. She wanted to just be angry and hurt and think of him as the bad guy because that was easier. It was harder to think about forgiving him. She was _so_ _sick_ of crying over him

Caiti could still feel, so clearly, the place where each of his fingers had pressed into her low back, the first time he had touched her since before the last full moon. How he had been there so quickly the moment people began to taunt her. And when her classmates had begun to tease the both of them, how he'd increased the pressure on his hand and guided her away and then, around the corner, he'd stopped and just looked at her, really looked at her. She hadn't been able to look away, but she'd wanted to so badly. And he just asked if she was okay, like he really wanted to know. Then when she walked away without answering, without thanking him, his face had looked so lined and tired, so much older than she had ever seen him.

If it had not been for all this, Caiti might not have noticed the title of the book she'd been staring at without really processing.

She'd seated herself at a small table with a couple of rickety chairs in a very dull section of the library that students browsed most infrequently. It held an extensive and comprehensive history of every case that had appeared before the Wizengamot since it's induction. Many of the books, though very old and dusty, looked as though their spines had never been cracked. The book that Caiti had just so happened to be staring at was titled _Quidditch: A Sport for all Wizards (Except Most). _

At any other moment, Caiti probably would not have picked the book up, but she was feeling so torn apart by her own rude behavior and by the undeniable fact that she really missed Marlowe, that a small pang of guilt wracked her stomach. She thought again about what he had given up to save her and then she reached out her index finger, tipped the book towards herself and caught it in her palm. She opened it up on the table in front of her. It smelled of dust, but otherwise, seemed brand new. The spine cracked satisfyingly when she flattened the first page.

With a quick glance at the contents, she found that each chapter explored a case of discrimination in professional quidditch. The subjects varied greatly by the year in which the trial took place, from a team which refused to allow a female player, to a team which insisted all its players be proved pureblood. None were so specific as Marlowe's case, but, still, she was intrigued.

Caiti glanced up, wanting, for some reason, to keep this bit of personal research a secret, and then, when she saw the coast was clear, she rolled up her untouched parchment, shut her textbook, and began to read.

Almost three hours later, Caiti finally began to pack up her things, including the library book. It was then that she spotted again the article Evelyn had given her, which she had successfully forgotten about in all the drama of the morning. She unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table to read.

FIRST ARREST FOLLOWING LINKED MUGGLE BAITING CRIMES

_On Thursday evening, Mr. Robert Fenwick - formerly of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic - was arrested at his home based on significant evidence of his involvement with a terrorist group of masked wizards whom aurors haves been tracking for months now with very few leads._

_It was not aurors, but a secretary in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who finally tracked Fenwick down. "It'll certainly be a low blow for the people who were supposed to have done it," said Laverne Montgomery's very proud supervisor, Mr. Spencer Carrow. "All this time, they've been searching and he was right here under there nose the whole time. And all the evidence. Crystal clear."_

_It is no secret to the public that Fenwick, a well-known registered werewolf, who was indeed instrumental in the institution of laws protecting his kind in the workplace, was recently charged with the unprovoked attack of an eighteen year old Hogwarts student. This appears to be another strike against his proclamation that the se very laws remain intact despite his own failings._

Caiti had to stop reading. She felt sick to her stomach. The article had gone on long enough without naming a shred of the evidence it claimed had been found. She was stuck on the word "unprovoked." _Unprovoked. _As though he had had a choice. As though he had _wanted_ to hurt Marlowe. Or her, for that matter. As though he had wanted to hurt anyone.

She could see now, for the first time, how far werewolves had yet to go in gaining a proper place in wizarding society. So much easier to blame a werewolf when no one wanted to trust them anyway. It couldn't be true. She refused to believe it, and she had very little good to say about Mr. Fenwick, under the circumstances. Still, she hated to think that it ever could be true, because if it was, her newest project had just become a whole lot more difficult.


	30. Another Full Moon

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty. Another Full Moon.

A week before the next full moon, Caiti had read through the book of Quidditch trials cover to cover. With each new story, her stomach twisted at the thought of how difficult it would be to get a place for Marlowe on any team, let alone one who had already refused him. The last few cases were fairly recent and there were more precedents for denying people positions than for awarding them. The book's author, however, had explored the places where laws had been twisted and she thought, with enough information, she could make a strong argument. She was not a Ravenclaw for nothing. She knew how to do her research.

This time, when she went to the library, it was with specific intentions in mind. Inside the door, she turned left and headed straight for the librarian's desk. Madame Page's skin was so pale and sallow it seemed to Caiti that she had never actually left the shadowy library. She'd always made Caiti feel a little nervous, but she also knew that if anyone could find the book she was looking for, it was Madame Page.

"Excuse me," she whispered. The old woman looked up from the desk. "I was wondering," Caiti continued, careful to keep her voice low, "If you could help me find a book."

Madame Page continued to stare at her in perfect silence. She had mastered the art of breathing, walking, and moving about her desk without a single sound.

"I'm interested in the laws recently put into place to protect werewolves in the workplace, and also any laws regarding hiring in professional quidditch."

The librarian regarded her for another few seconds and then she picked up her wand and headed out from around the desk and towards the stacks. Caiti followed her, feeling self-conscious about the sound of her shoes and the way her clothes rustled against each other when she walked.

She felt much better, however, when they stopped near the section Caiti had found the first book. Madame Page raised her wand and flicked it. Two volumes fluttered down from the top row. They looked just alike except that one seemed much newer than the other, and they came from a collection of several dozen other identical books. Madame Page handed Caiti the books, with slate blue covers and gold embossed roman numerals on the spine. The first read XVI and the second XXIV.

Caiti set one down as quietly as possible on the table nearest them and opened to the title page as nothing but the number was written on the outside. The older looking book read _Magical Laws and Doctrines of the United Kingdom: Volume XVI – Sport and Recreation _and the second, a similar title except for the specific subject matter, _Volume XXIV – Part Human Rights and Restrictions._

Caiti did not like the wording on the second title, but she knew it would hold what she was looking for. "Thank you," she whispered. Madame Page nodded and made her way back to her desk. Caiti waited until she was gone before she sat down to read.

* * *

Sean, Evelyn, and Marlowe sat at dinner on Wednesday night, just one day before the full moon, when Caiti suddenly arrived. Marlowe sat up very straight. Feverish and exhausted as he had come to expect as the days neared his transformation, this was the most alert he had felt the whole day. He even smoothed his hand through his sloppy hair in a lame attempt to make himself look presentable.

But Caiti wasn't looking at him.

"Ev," she said. "I need your help with something."

"Oh," she said. "Alright. Now?"

Caiti hesitated, glancing at Sean. "If you don't mind," she said.

"No, of course." Evelyn stood up. She glanced at Marlowe.

He tried desperately to think of something good to say to her while he had the chance, but his mind had gone blank. Then he and Caiti made eye contact for the shortest second and his heart stopped. Was she going to say something? Even hello would have been like Christmas morning at this point. Caiti looked away and then back up at him, this time with the smallest smile on her lips, barely enough to even register, but still, he was so surprised, he didn't have time to even smile back before the girls walked away.

He leaned forward on the table to peer around the heads of the people nearest them. They had sat down side by side a short ways down, far enough that he could not hear any of what they were saying. Caiti had taken out several long rolls of parchment and she and Evelyn had put their heads together to discuss something.

"What's that about?" asked Marlowe.

"Probably just homework," said Sean, shrugging. He had been significantly less interested in monitoring Caiti's odd behavior lately, because she had seemed in much better spirits the last week or so and it had been quite a relief to Sean who had not wanted to write home to his parents about what had happened.

Marlowe had not lost interest though. If anything, it had piqued his interest even more. She was up to something. She was always so busy, coming back late from the library.

"I don't think so," said Marlowe.

"You're just overthinking it," said Sean. "Exams are coming up."

"She doesn't have O.W.L.'s or N.E.W.T.'s though."

"Still exams," said Sean. He helped himself to another serving of pot pie. "You've gotta eat something," Sean added, because Marlowe's plate was untouched.

"Can't," he said. "I feel like crap."

"You're gonna make yourself feel worse," said Sean.

But Marlowe just shook his head, pushed his plate away, folded his arms on the table, put his forehead down, and mumbled "I literally couldn't feel worse."

* * *

Around five o'clock the next evening, there was a knock on Marlowe's door. "Come in," he said.

It was Caiti who came around the door. She stood very still and very quiet, eyes on the ground. A goblet, steam curling around the edges, was clutched in her hands. Marlowe sat on the edge of his bed, staring at her in disbelief. He had given next to no thought to who would be making the potion for him this time around, but now he saw her standing there with it, he was sure that, deep down, he had never thought it would be Caiti again. His throat burned uncomfortably. He was sure his face was red.

It was impossible not to think of the last time she had come to his room this way.

"Can you just take it?" Caiti asked finally. Her voice was tight. Marlowe wondered how long he had been sitting there looking at her. He stood quickly, took the glass and set it down on Sean's trunk, which was nearest where she stood. Then, before she could go, he pulled her into a tight hug, one hand on the back of her head. Caiti's hands didn't quite make it around him, but she at least placed them partway up his sides. Her breathing was slow and steady, but he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

When he let go, Caiti turned to go at once. "Caiti," he said when her hand was on the doorknob. She paused, but did not look at him. "Thank you."

If anything, she hovered another moment and then left quickly, leaving him confused and conflicted.

He downed the potion at once, thinking that, at the very least, he was guaranteed a solid twelve plus hours to dwell on this brief exchange uninterrupted and to decide what to do next. He _would_ get her to talk to him. He had to.

* * *

The following afternoon, Marlowe positioned himself outside the potions classroom. His body ached and shooting pains kept going up his shins when he walked. He had barely gotten himself out of bed the whole day. But if one thing could, it was Caiti. And he had decided last night, in his ample thinking time, that this conversation could not wait. He was just going to do it. So he arrived in the dungeons and waited outside the door fifteen minutes before her class got out, just in case, and tried his best to ignore the way his hands shook and his chest felt tight.

But despite all this, he knew it was only the aftermath of the night that was bothering him. He felt oddly calm about seeing Caiti. Ready, even, to have the conversation they had never had in the first place.

When the door finally opened, Marlowe shoved his hands into his pockets and bowed his head, lifting just his eyes to watch for her. She was one of the last to emerge, walking side by side with that Gryffindor kid that did commentary at the Quidditch matches. Marlowe couldn't remember his name. She was laughing at something he was saying, but then she spotted Marlowe and her smile faded too quickly.

"I'll see you later," she said to him and then she took a few steps towards Marlowe.

Her hair was down that day, all the way down. He rarely saw her that way. It was parted heavily to one side so that it draped over her face. She tucked it behind her ear, but untucked it again almost immediately.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Marlowe asked.

Caiti blinked. "Alright," she said.

They walked in silence up from the dungeons and through the entrance hall. Marlowe turned to go outside. It was beautiful out. He'd had his window open all day to enjoy it. It was the first really warm day they had had that spring.

Caiti kept her hands crossed tightly over her stomach and did not look at him.

They walked all the way down to the lake and he stopped at a grassy spot in the sun and said, "Let's sit," because he didn't think he could take being on his feet much longer. He sat first, and then she joined him a moment later, cross-legged. She began picking at the grass.

Marlowe shrugged off his robes. It was actually hot out. He stared out at the sparkling water; it seemed a little less black than usual. There was just enough of a breeze to rustle the trees and to tickle the bare skin on his arms.

"I don't know where to start," he said finally.

Caiti sniffed and he looked over at her. She was crying already, just a little bit.

"Crap, I'm sorry," she murmured, turning her face away from him as she hurried to wipe her tears away. She put her head back, looking up to the sun and took a long, slow breath. He thought she would just go quiet again, but on her exhale she said, "I've just been thinking about you a lot lately." She lowered her head again and squinted a little. "Like, a lot, a lot," she added.

Marlowe hesitated. He did not know what to say. "Me too," he said finally. "I mean- like... about you. Not about me."

She kind of smiled and he was so giddy over it that he actually grinned, though it faded fast.

"How are you?" asked Caiti. This surprised him.

"Fine," he said at once.

"No, I mean, how _are _you?" she asked again. "How was last night? How was... I don't know... just... how are you?"

"Oh," he said. He had not _really _talked about the full moon to anyone. He had admitted to Sean that it was not great, which was a massive understatement, but he had otherwise kept very silent about the whole matter. It was not fun to talk about or to think about or to go through. Saying any of it aloud made him feel dirty and tainted. He wrapped his arms around his knees and sat forward. "I don't know," he said. "I feel pretty crappy today. I'm-" he paused, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb. "I'm not good. But I'm okay."

Caiti just nodded. It was another minute before she asked, "My potion works, right?"

Marlowe nodded. "Tastes better than the one they gave me at St. Mungo's," he said quietly. She glanced at him and he added, "Better is relative, so don't get a big head."

She actually laughed a little bit and Marlowe had to press his lips tight together to keep from smiling too much.

"Thanks," he said. "I mean I said it last night, but... really. If I didn't-" He stopped. He didn't really want to think about what would happen without the potion. "Just thanks," he said again.

"You're welcome," said Caiti softly. She was picking at the grass again, pulling long strands out by the roots. She twisted them around her fingers and threw them away.

"And also," he said. He stopped and cleared his throat. He didn't want to bring this up, but he knew he had to address it. "I'm really sorry."

Caiti swallowed hard. There was a beat and then she said, "I know." The breeze picked up and blew her hair into her face. She lifted her hand to unstick it from between her eyelashes and he saw she was crying again, just enough to notice.

"I don't really know what to- I don't-" he stopped and sighed, face into his hands. "I don't want to defend myself," he said, voice muffled slightly. He lifted his face again, sliding his hands down his cheeks so they pulled his skin taut. "If I'm being honest, I probably meant some of it. Not all of it. But definitely some of it. Like I wasn't lying when I said I blamed you for it. And I know that's not true and it's not fair, but it's hard not to feel that way sometimes." Marlowe grabbed a fistful of grass and ripped it out. "You were the only other one who was there. It just- I don't know," he sighed. "It's not your fault."

Caiti said nothing. He couldn't look at her. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Being honest with you sucks." He put his forehead down on his knees again before he spoke.

"The other thing I meant was that I don't like when you pretend it didn't happen. Like I want you to treat me normally, but I also - I don't know how to explain it. I guess I don't want to feel like you're holding something back or like... tip-toeing around something or whatever. It's hard enough for me to know it every day, but it's a lot harder to accept it if you're right there all the time ignoring it until we can't ignore it anymore. And then you spring it on me all the sudden, like, hey I know what happened. I know what you are. And I can't stop thinking about what you think of me then, if you're scared of me, or if you don't want-"

He stopped. He had not realized how much he was going to say. "I guess I just mean that I need you to accept it and treat it like it's normal instead of trying to keep what used to be normal. I'm never going to be like that anymore. I'm just different. And- and if you don't want to... " He decided against forcing himself to finish that sentence.

He lifted his head again and looked out at the water. The sun seemed extra bright after the little safe space he'd had in his knees. It seemed impossible he should have been able to talk this way in broad daylight. This was a conversation for the dark, where he could hide.

"But no matter what, I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I shouldn't have yelled. And I shouldn't have- I mean, I needed something different. But I didn't tell you that. And I shouldn't have expected you to know. And I shouldn't have pretended like you didn't need things from me, too."

Caiti sniffed again. He saw her make a surreptitious swipe at the outer corner of her eye.

"You wanna know what I definitely didn't mean?" he asked. He could feel his cheeks heating up already. She didn't answer, so he went on. "I do need you," he said. He finally looked at her.

Caiti let out a single, small sob followed by a noise of frustration. "God, I'm just-" She rolled her eyes upwards and shook her hands out. She balled them up into fists and screwed up her mouth, then she dropped her hands and relaxed everything all at once. Tears continued to stream out of the corners of her eyes. "You really hurt me, but I don't want to cry about you anymore. It's exhausting." Her voice came out strong, if a little shaky.

"Marlowe," she continued, "I appreciate your honesty. I forgive you. And I love you. And I care about you. But-" She finally looked at him for longer than a glance and he forced himself to maintain eye contact. Her eyes were fiery, their usual softness hardened. It was unusual to see her this way. "I don't think I can trust you," she said. "Yet." He physically felt his face crumple. "It's just gonna take some time," she added. He nodded and then he had to look away.

Her words stung, but he didn't blame her. He had said some things that probably cut deep too.

It was almost ten minutes before either of them spoke again. "Caiti?" he said finally.

She barely glanced at him.

He took a breath and held it in a few seconds before anything came out. "I don't regret it," he said, "pushing you out of the way."

Caiti's eyes went a little glassy, but she didn't start crying again. Instead, she scooted over, closing most of the foot and half that had been between them all this time, and she took his hand. She didn't intertwine their fingers and she didn't squeeze and she didn't lean into him, but it was enough.

* * *

Standing in the middle of the dropping strewn stone floor of the owlery, Evelyn called down one of the school barn owls who neatly extended a foot so she could attach the letter. Caiti paced back and forth by the largest open air window with one hand on her mouth and the other across her lower belly. Her eyes were wide.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said. "I should have told him. What if he- what if he blows up at me again for trying to help? Oh my god- no. Give that to me."

She stuck out her hand, but Evelyn had already tied the letter to the owl's foot. She headed for a different window than the one Caiti stood by and released the owl outside without a word.

"No," said Caiti. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Call him back. Right now." She stopped walking with a stomp and stared at Evelyn with urgency. Evelyn waved down a second owl. "No," said Caiti again. "Evelyn don't you dare. I'm not even kidding."

Caiti made to try to snag the second letter away, but her hand flew past the owl who got spooked and snapped at her with his beak, making a deep cut on her thumb. It fluttered up and over a few feet before dutifully sticking it's leg back out to let Evelyn resume. She made sure to attach this one quickly, gave the owl a little stroke with the back of her fingers, and sent it out the window.

Caiti looked downright distressed.

"It's not a mistake, Caiti," said Evelyn, coming to her friend and putting her hands on either shoulder. "You've done all this research, and if nothing comes of it, fine. But _you _know it's illegal, and you know how to prove it, so you can't just let it happen." She picked up Caiti's hand and pointed her wand at the cut to heal it. She knew almost nothing about healing, but it was a simple enough spell.

"Thanks," Caiti mumbled. Evelyn called down another owl and took out the third letter. There were a dozen in all, each addressed to the manager of a different quidditch team in the British and Irish league. Evelyn had helped Caiti organize all her research into a coherent and thoughtful argument against behavior like that of the Ballycastle Bats. Evelyn had a way with words that was empathetic but struck deep where it needed too. She was not one to skirt truths, no matter how difficult, but she knew how to keep from sounding too accusatory. The letters were good. She was certain of it. And in any luck, at least one team would respond.

"Oh my god," said Caiti again as Evelyn sent the third owl on its way. She covered her eyes with her hands and sunk down to a squat. "I can't watch."

Evelyn worked in silence until all the letters were gone, and then she put a hand on Caiti's back and helped her stand. They walked out side by side and at the very bottom of the steep spiral staircase, Caiti squeezed her hands into fists, released them again, and said, "Thank you."

Evelyn just gave her a small smile.

* * *

It was a Thursday afternoon and Evelyn had an unfinished essay she should have been working on. Instead, she was lying on her back on Sean's bed. They had not pulled the hangings closed because the breeze coming in the open window was so wonderful. It was that perfect kind of sleepy spring day where it seemed impossible to do anything but just enjoy the good weather. Sean had his eyes shut, but she knew he wasn't sleeping.

"Sean?" she asked. He turned his head and opened his eyes. "We have a month and a half of school left," she began.

He turned his head back again to stare up at the canopy of his four poster with her. "That's insane."

"I know," she said. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

He sighed through his nose. "Me neither," he said.

Evelyn rolled over onto her side, folded her hands, and tucked them under her head.

"Are you gonna go back home?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "At first I guess."

He rolled over too, propped up on his elbow, and reached out with his other arm to run his fingers through her hair, from her scalp all the way to the ends. He let his fingers come to rest lightly on her waist.

"It's just weird to think about not being here," she said. "I've never- I don't know this world. Outside Hogwarts."

"Yeah," said Sean. "Well... at least you know me."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, that's true."

"I don't feel old enough to be thinking about careers," said Sean, matter-of-factly.

"Not even close," said Evelyn. Her smile grew.

Sean laughed a little, his eyes bright but focused somewhere past her shoulder. "Ev, you're not even eighteen yet. I still feel about fifteen. And we're- we're meant to be starting our lives. Sent out on our own already."

"I know," she laughed. "It seems a little reckless to send all these kids out into the world, like, we educated and cared for you for seven years, now you're ready to live on your own and feed yourself and pay the bills, and get a job."

"We don't even do our own laundry," said Sean.

She grinned. "Okay. Here's what I think. We go home for like... a month or two. Get a crash course in how to be an adult, and then..."

"And then we figure out the rest together," said Sean. He looked at her again.

She smiled too much. "Yeah," she said. She looked down.

Sean shifted closer to her, worked his arm under her shoulders, and kissed her on the top of the head. Evelyn snuggled up into the crook of his arm, head on his chest and said, "Seventh year-itis is a real thing."

Sean laughed. She liked how it felt when his chest shook under her ear. "We'll try and do some work after dinner," he said.


	31. Telling Secrets

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty One. Telling Secrets

Marlowe had been waiting to get Evelyn alone for a week. Finally, he took his chance. Caiti had gone up to bed ten minutes earlier and Sean had just said goodnight to Evelyn while she packed up her things before heading upstairs to shower. She made it about six steps away before Marlowe caught up to her, looped his arm around her waist and turned her back around. He led her back to the table they'd been sitting around and then released her.

"I need to have a chat with you," he said seriously.

Evelyn turned her head a little to the right but left her eyes on Marlowe. She was frowning. Very slowly, she sunk back into the chair she had just vacated.

Marlowe sat himself opposite her and leaned forward with his hands clasped on the table.

"Well this feels confrontational," she said.

"Caiti's up to something," said Marlowe.

"What makes you say that?" asked Evelyn.

"And you're in on it."

Evelyn blinked and her face turned a little pink.

"You're a terrible liar, Ev so let's just skip past that part. What's she up to?"

"Nothing," said Evelyn.

Marlowe raised his eyebrows.

Evelyn put her face in her hands, took a deep breath, and said, "She found this book on discrimination in quidditch and she started doing all this research and she was reading these really complicated law books and stuff and then she asked me to help her write a bunch of letters to all the quidditch teams in the league asking them to take a stance against what the Ballycastle Bats did to you because it's unlawful and just cruel and I wasn't supposed to tell you, please don't be mad. She'll kill me if she knows you know."

This all came out very fast, giving Marlowe next to no time to let it sink in.

"Anything else?" he asked, after a minute's hard thought.

"She may have also asked them to come to the last match and see you play."

Marlowe's face hardened. "You're dismissed," he said. Evelyn lowered her hands and stood just as slowly as she had sat.

"Please, please, please don't get mad at her. I know she probably overstepped her boundaries or whatever, but she's not trying to make you feel like you're worthless or anything. She just feels responsible for what happened and she needs to feel like she's doing something to make it better."

Marlowe sunk low in his seat, folded his arms and gave her a moody glare. "How come you always have to know exactly what I'm thinking?"

Evelyn gave a sigh of relief. "Just good at reading people, I guess." She started to go, but then she turned once more and said, "Caiti really cares about you."

"I know," said Marlowe at once.

"I know you do," said Evelyn. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Just don't forget it, okay?"

Marlowe said nothing, so she left for real this time, leaving Marlowe to feel guilty for the split second of anger that had flared up again. He should have been touched, appreciative, but if he was being honest, her genuine kindness, and her insistence in going out of her way to do things for him - it was embarrassing. He didn't want her to have to do these things. He should have been self sufficient. He should have been the one helping her.

But then, maybe he was forgetting what he'd already done for her, and that she might feel the same way.

It was always hard, thought Marlowe, to ask for help, but it was harder to accept help unsolicited from someone who knew you needed it.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Marlowe was especially polite to Caiti. So polite, in fact, that she figured out within minutes that something was up.

"Why," she asked the table at large, "is Marlowe acting like he's at Christmas dinner with his great grandmother and the Queen of England?"

Sean snorted and spat pumpkin juice everywhere which made Evelyn laugh, but Caiti remained unphased. She up straight with her arms folded and her brow creased. "I'm not kidding. Why are you saying please and thank you so much? Why have you started asking questions with 'may' instead of 'can?' What's up with you?"

Marlowe's eyes flickered towards Evelyn and betrayed him. Caiti's head snapped to Evelyn who immediately began to go red around her hairline.

"Wow, it's really hot in here," she said, picking up her glass of water.

"Oh, my god. Evelyn. You are the _worst _liar, why do you even bother?"

"I might have told him," she squeaked. Caiti's eyes widened. "Sorry," Evelyn said, just above a whisper. "I couldn't lie then either."

Caiti took one nervous glance at Marlowe, but she didn't look long enough to take note of his expression. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to know what he thought about what she'd done. In fact, she had kind of hoped she would never have to tell him at all. That the teams would just show up to recruit as usual and no mention of her letters of intercession would ever need to be made.

So much for that.

"Couldn't lie about what?" asked Sean, who was, as usual, the one left completely in the dark. Evelyn didn't answer his question. She looked down into her cup, gripping and regripping her fingers around it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Caiti saw Marlowe check his watch and then she felt his hand rest on her forearm. "Want to go talk for a minute?" he asked quietly.

She nodded because she didn't know what else to do. He stood up and held a hand out to help her up. She still felt weird about how polite he was acting, but she took it anyway.

They walked away leaving a bewildered Sean and a very embarassed Evelyn at the table.

In the entrance hall, Marlowe walked a few steps up the marble staircase and sat down. Caiti sat herself on the step next to him and clasped her fingers around her knees, eyes down.

"How come you didn't tell me?" he asked.

Caiti hesitated for too long. She was scared to speak. He appeared calm, but she couldn't stop thinking he might start shouting at her again.

"We weren't talking when I started," she said finally.

"And then after?" asked Marlowe.

She bit down hard and lifted her shoulders before she answered. "I was scared that you might be mad," she said. Her words came out oddly precise and a little choppy.

He put his arm around her and pulled her into his side. Caiti was surprised by this. She could not relax. "I was," he admitted. "At first." His fingers scratched lightly back and forth on her waist and it was all she could focus on.

They had not touched much since they had been speaking again. Marlowe had always seemed too scared to push the many boundaries, dancing around her like she was a land mine. "I don't- I don't really like when you do big things for me," he said. Caiti swallowed hard. "But I'm not gonna pretend I don't appreciate it either. You do too much, Caiti. It makes me feel weird. I don't want you to help me. I don't want you to have to help me, but... I'm not really mad at you. And I'm-" His hand stopped moving, coming to rest firm and flat against her side. He turned his head to look at her. "I'm kind of interested to know what all you found."

Caiti took a deep, shaky breath. This new, brutally honest Marlowe was difficult to get used to, no matter how much she reasoned with herself that it was better than the alternative where he bottled it all up until it had to come out.

"I can show you sometime," she murmured.

"Cool," he said. "So you... you started doing all that when you kind of hated me?"

"I never hated you," said Caiti quietly. Finally, she tipped her head onto his shoulder and he resumed the movement of his fingertips. "I was just hurt."

"You're too good of a friend," said Marlowe.

"Says the one who jumped in front of a werewolf for me," said Caiti quietly.

Marlowe half-laughed.

When people began to file out of the great hall for class, he stood and offered his hand to her again.

"Uhm- see you at lunch," said Caiti.

"Yeah," said Marlowe. "Actually- hang on a sec. I've been wanting to ask you..." He looked down and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I want to take you out."

"Like a date," said Caiti.

"Yeah. Like a proper date."

"I don't really want to go to Hogsmeade," she said. This did not need explanation. She had enough bad memories there to want to stay away for a good while.

"Me neither," said Marlowe. "I was thinking somewhere else."

"I can't apparate," she said. "And I don't think we're allowed to go anywhere else anyway."

"Obviously," he said, "But... I was thinking we do it anyway. Side-along apparation. I want it to be a surprise anyway."

Caiti considered him a minute. "Saturday is a week from your game though. Don't you have practice?"

"I can move it to Sunday," he said.

That was when Caiti knew he was serious about this. He wouldn't move quidditch practice for just anything.

"Alright," said Caiti.

"Yeah?" Marlowe grinned. "Okay. Yeah. Cool. Okay."

Caiti smiled a bit. "Okay... I should go. Uhm-" She waffled back and forth about leaving, and then she took one step up to put herself more on level with him and she hugged him tight, chin on his shoulder. "Bye," she said, and then she hurried up the stairs and away. She stayed just long enough to see the wide smile on Marlowe's face, like it was Christmas morning again. Her heart began pounding after the fact. This, she thought, was textbook "starting over."

* * *

Waiting for Caiti to come downstairs that morning was more agonizing than before the Yule Ball. He could not wait to see her, but he also wanted to put the moment off as long as possible. He couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous around her. But calling this an official date had put pressure on that he'd never felt before. It was like he'd realized that she wasn't just Caiti, his best friend, she wasn't "just" anything. This was _Caiti. _And she didn't trust him yet. And he could think of nothing worse than messing up with her so badly that he never got her back.

He was so preoccupied that when she finally did come downstairs, he missed it. She was standing in front of him by the time he noticed her. "Hey," she said. He stood up too quickly, realizing after the fact that it had put him very, very close to her.

"Hey," he said. He leaned forward and gave her an awkward half sideways hug.

Caiti laughed. "Don't be weird. It's just me," she said smirking at him. His stomach did a series of impressive acrobatics.

"Your hair's down," he said. "All of it." She shrugged and kind of smiled.

"Come on, let's go eat," she said.

After breakfast, Caiti and Marlowe joined Sean and Evelyn and the rest of the crowd heading to Hogsmeade for the day. Marlowe had suggested they find a good secluded place to apparate there, since there was obviously no chance of doing so from Hogwarts. This was the only part of the day Caiti was nervous about for two reasons: first because even side-along apparation terrified her, if she was being honest, and second because it had been bad enough walking by the place they'd seen the werewolf alone, and today, Marlowe would be there right next to her.

She was glad that Evelyn had Sean totally occupied reviewing their plan for the day because she'd always felt a little uncomfortable holding Marlowe's hand in front of her brother, and right now, she needed to. She glanced up at him and held out her hand until he caught on and pulled his own out of his pocket. They clasped their fingers together, shifting closer as they walked so their arms overlapped.

Marlowe's hand was antsy, his fingers constantly shifting their grip or just pulsing slightly, increasing and decreasing their pressure on the back of her hand.

"This is our last Hogsmeade weekend," Evelyn was saying. She walked with a militant sort of force and speed. "We've got to hit all the stops," she continued. "We've got to make a game plan."

Sean laughed. "You know we can still go to Hogsmeade after we graduate right?"

"Of course," she said. "But it won't be the same when it's not our one escape into civilization bookended by months of solitude in an old drafty castle with too much homework."

Marlowe didn't even crack a smile at that. It was a relief to Caiti that he was as nervous as she was.

"So I say," Evelyn went on, "it's Honeydukes first and then, Zonko's. We'll hit the Three Broomsticks at lunch of course, and-"

But she stopped, because Caiti and Marlowe had just disappeared from her periphery. Caiti was standing very still, staring at the ground, and Marlowe, next to her, had clenched his jaw very tightly.

"Go ahead," said Caiti. "We'll meet up with you."

Sean began to protest, but Evelyn, tactful as ever," said, "Come on, Sean. No distractions. Get with the program." And she grabbed his hand and carted him off with only a short glance back at Caiti. They made brief eye contact, but Caiti just nodded at her to go on.

Once they were far enough away, Caiti let go of Marlowe's hand, walked off the path and into the grass, and laid down on her back with her knees up. The sun was very bright so she rested her forearm over her eyes. Marlowe sat next to her, but it was a minute before he laid back too. When he did, he was stiff. Caiti peeked at him from under her arm.

"I've been thinking about what you said," she began. "About how we have to stop pretending everything is normal."

Marlowe said nothing.

"You were right," she said. "This is normal now. This is our life and... that's not a bad thing."

"It's kind of a bad thing," he said.

"No," said Caiti. "It not the first choice, but it doesn't have to be bad. It just is what it is." She rolled onto her side, propped up on her elbow, head in her hand, and added, "I'm not ashamed of you, Marlowe. I'm not embarrassed to say you're a werewolf. I thought you didn't want to acknowledge it. But I get it now. That makes it harder, because-"

"Because I can't forget it," he said. He opened his eyes and squinted at her.

She nodded. Marlowe shut his eyes again and she laid back down next to him. After a minute he snaked one arm up between them and circled it around her shoulders. She lifted her head and laid it back down on his arm.

"You wanna tell me what we're doing yet?" Caiti asked.

Marlowe gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "I was thinking of going to see a film," he said slowly. Caiti turned her head, eyes bright and wide.

"A _muggle _film?"

He nodded once, not yet opening his eyes, but he was smiling a little.

Caiti rolled over again and gave him an awkward laying down hug. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. "How did you remember that? It was _ages_ ago."

"I remember most things you say," he said.

Caiti was too excited for the full meaning of that statement to sink in. "Come on, what are we waiting for? Let's go," she said, pulling back from him and hurrying to stand up. The second Marlowe was up, she grabbed his arm tightly and looked at him expectantly.

"Apparate from right here?" he asked, surprised.

"Why not?" she said. "There's no one around. Come _on."_

"Fair enough," he laughed. "Okay, on three. One- two-" And 'three' was drowned out by the loud crack that marked their disapparation.

Caiti was absolutely buzzing with excitement by the time they reached theatre seven where their movie would play - a romantic drama called _The Way You Look at Life_. Caiti had requested they see the movie which was the most quintessentially date material. She'd almost lost it twice: first when he started counting out the muggle money he'd asked his mom to change for him, and then again when she'd spotted the fountain drink machine. He'd had a difficult time preventing her from pressing all the buttons just to see it come out.

Caiti veered towards the front row, but, juggling the large bucket of popcorn pressed between the crook of his arm and his body, and the two fizzy drinks in his hands, he nudged her the other direction, leaning closer to whisper, "You don't want to sit in the front. Have to crane your neck the whole time. It's best in the back."

Her eyes lit up at this new tidbit and she immediately changed course. They filed down the very top row and sat themselves right in the center of the big screen. Marlowe settled their cups into the cup holders and looked to Caiti who was sitting on the very edge of her seat, looking down at the other people collected around the theatre. "Why are they all looking at those little lights?" she whispered.

Marlowe had to work hard to control himself. "Those are cell phones," he said, barely holding in his laughter. He did not want to upset the popcorn. "It's how-"

But he didn't have to finish.

"Oh!" she said excitedly, peering down with more excitement now. "Oh, we _learned _about those. _Wow."_

Marlowe laughed. "I bet my mom would let you look at hers sometime if you wanted."

Caiti turned to him with a look of absolute delight on her face, but it quickly settled to a softer smile. "Thanks, Marlowe. For doing this."

He shrugged and smiled at her. He did not know what else to say.

When the movie began, Marlowe did not hesitate to rest his arm around Caiti's shoulders. He felt easy and comfortable around her for the first time since the day of the second task. It was good not to worry what she was thinking or whether it was really him she wanted to be there with.

He did not pay much attention to the movie at all, actually, too busy watching Caiti's reactions out the corner of her eye and answering her many whispered questions about muggle objects and references she had never heard of. He wished he were a better source of information. He knew of the muggle world by association only. He'd never really immersed himself in it.

Near the end of the film, Caiti finally went totally silent, and Marlowe's thoughts strayed to the one place he hadn't let them go in weeks. He wanted to kiss her so badly. He thought, perhaps, she would let him now. Perhaps it had been long enough since they had argued. But he was so scared that she wouldn't let him.

She had not said yet that she trusted him again. And she had kissed him first plenty of times before; if she'd wanted him to, wouldn't she have just done it? He spent the last ten minutes trying to convince himself that it would be okay to try, or maybe to ask, as had been his habit for five and a half years. And then the credits were rolling before he'd realized it. The other theatre-goers were standing, stretching, crumpling up empty popcorn bags, and giving each other their snap-reviews of the movie before the more in depth-discussion on the way home.

He and Caiti did not move just yet. His arm was still around her shoulders. This was surely an okay time to kiss her. Instead, he said, "When I was at St. Mungo's...my mum and I came here a couple times a week."

"To this theatre?" Caiti asked. They spoke aloud now. The room had emptied.

He nodded. "I thought about you every time. I mean, I was thinking about you regardless. But...especially here. I never forgot you said you wanted- you know... when you first brought it up. I thought maybe..." He stopped and laughed. "I kinda thought you were trying to get me to ask you out."

"I was," she said.

"Oh," said Marlowe. "Crap. I wasted a lot of time."

Caiti laughed and shook her head. "No. You gave me five years of opportunities. I just didn't take them."

"True, I guess," said Marlowe. The custodian had just come in so he stood, held out his hand for Caiti, and they headed out, tossing their garbage in the bin on the way.

Caiti slipped her hand into his when they were back on the sidewalk. They made their way in silence to an alleyway where they would hopefully not be seen disapparating back to Hogsmeade. Marlowe squeezed her hand a little tighter and glanced at her. He'd just gotten an idea. "Hey... do you wanna try apparating?"

"I don't have a license," she said at once.

"I know," he said. "But you've done it before."

"Like twice," she scoffed.

"Come on, Caiti. Just try. I know you can do it. You're just freaking yourself out."

"I can't," she said. Her forehead creased and her eyes grew wide and worried. "It just doesn't work."

Marlowe faced her, reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears and then slid his hands down to rest on her upper arms. "What if," he said, "you hang on to me like it's side along, but we both try to apparate at the same time. So it's like you're doing it alone, but if it doesn't work, then... I've got you."

"I don't know..." she said. "What if I make us splinch or something?"

"You won't. Don't shut yourself off to ever apparating again, Caiti. Failing the test the first time isn't the end of the world. Lots of people do."

"Yeah? Like who," she said, folding her arms and looking down at her feet.

"Sean did."

Her eyes snapped back up to his.

"He never told me that."

"Didn't really tell anyone, did he? Sean's supposed to be good at everything. Point is, you're giving yourself this mental block and you don't need to. If you've done it once, you can do it again."

Caiti smirked. "I don't know," she said.

"Come on, just try," said Marlowe. "You're seventeen years old and you can brew the freaking _wolfsbane _potion," he said. "You can apparate too."

Caiti shut her eyes and let her head fall back. "Okay fine," she said. Marlowe grinned at her. She grabbed hold of his hand.

"Don't you dare let go of me because if it doesn't work and you apparate without me, I swear-"

"I won't. We'll go back to the same spot we left from, okay? On three," he said. "Together. I'm not gonna let you go. One- two-"

On three, Caiti squeezed her eyes shut tight and willed herself with everything she had to find herself back where she came from. There was a tight sensation around her head and torso, like she was being squeezed through something much too small for her body. Her limbs tingled. But it lasted only a few seconds and then she felt her feet hit solid ground.

"You did it," said Marlowe, wringing out his hand. She had been squeezing it very, very tightly.

"How do you know I even did anything?" she asked.

"Because I didn't," said Marlowe.

Caiti's jaw dropped and she smacked him on the shoulder. "You tricked me!"

He took a step back from her, laughing. "Yeah, but you did it."

"I- I- you-" she spluttered.

"I told you you could," he said making his way back over to her with caution. He had always loved when she was mildly angry with him. Her face was priceless.

"You suck," she said. He pulled her into a hug, trying to hold in his laughter.

"You didn't splinch us or anything," said Marlowe.

"I hate you."

"Wouldn't've done it if I didn't really think you were capable," he said. "Apparation can be dangerous."

"Yeah, I know, you jerk!"

"Can I kiss you?" Marlowe asked, surprising even himself.

Caiti went very still. Her annoyance turned to a coy smile in a split second. "You don't have to ask," she said quietly.

"I thought you didn't-" he began, but he shut himself up quickly, slid his hand around the back of her neck to cup her head, thumb on her cheek, and he kissed her. Finally.

When Sean returned from brushing his teeth in the bathroom, he found Evelyn lying on her back on his bed, apparently oblivious to the fact that the other seventh year boys were all trying to get ready for bed. They were all looking shiftily at her, trying to decide whether to bring their pajamas into the bathroom or just pull back the curtains on their four posters. She had invited herself in again.

"Hey," he said "What are you doing here?"

"Your mattress," she said. "Is just more comfortable than mine."

Sean rolled his eyes and laughed He pulled a navy pullover sweater, neatly folded, out from his trunk, followed by a pair of khaki slacks and a grey t-shirt, all of which he laid on top of the closed lid. Evelyn sat up, rolled onto her knees, and propped herself on one hand to watch his routine. "You don't mind do you?"

Sean shook his head. "Course not," he said. He reached out to pull up the sleeve of Evelyn's t-shirt - one of her own for once - which was very loose and had slipped over her shoulder. Evelyn took the opportunity of his sudden proximity to peck him on the lips.

At the same time, the dormitory door opened and Marlowe entered. He mimed throwing up. "Oh my god," he choked. "Get out of here. You two are disgusting."

Sean looked rather pink, but simply mumbled, "You're back late."

"What'd you and Caiti end up doing?" she asked. "We didn't see you."

"Oh, not much," said Marlowe evasively. His joking manner had dissipated at once. He skirted past Sean and to his own bed, pulling pajamas out of his own sloppily organized truck, nowhere near the immaculate display that Sean prided himself on. "Didn't end up going to Hogsmeade," he said.

"You just came back here?" Sean asked.

Marlowe hesitated before he said, "Yeah. Just... Hogsmeade is kind of... I mean you know..."

"So... what'd you do here, then?" Sean asked. Marlowe just shrugged. Sean narrowed his eyes. "Marlowe," he said, starting to feel nervous. "I know we're friends and all, but Caiti is my sister and I swear if you- if you two-"

"Oh my god," said Marlowe again. "Don't finish that. No."

"I'm just saying," said Sean, but he looked relieved.

"If you really want to know that bad," said Marlowe, taking a step towards the bathroom. "She told me a long time ago she wanted to go to a muggle movie. So I took her."

"Awww!" said Evelyn, clapping her hand over her heart. "That's against a thousand school rules and I should report you, but don't worry. I wouldn't. What'd you see?"

But Marlowe ignored her, eyes on Sean who finally said, "Oh."

"Yeah," said Marlowe, "So just... calm down okay?" He started to leave the room again but seemed to have second thoughts and turned again. "And for the record," he said. "You're the one who's girlfriend stays in here overnight. Not me."

"Yeah well... Caiti's my sister," said Sean stiffly.

"No duh," said Marlowe and he headed for the bathroom.

Sean stared at the door like it had done him a personal wrong. The other boys were watching the scene with curiosity.

Evelyn tugged on his hand and he turned back to the bed and sat next to her. She lowered her voice and said, "I know you worry about her, but don't take it out on him, okay? He's got enough to deal with and anyway... he's really good to her."

"Not all the time."

"He messed up," she said. "Once. It happens. They're moving past it. I'd like to think that if we ever fought like that, we could too."

"I don't ever want to fight with you like that," said Sean.

Evelyn slipped her hand into his. "I'm not saying I do either, but we probably will. Everyone fights at some point. The point is it doesn't make you a bad person to have a disagreement or to say something you probably shouldn't have."

"Yeah," said Sean, because he could not think what else to say.

They drew the curtains around his bed and then Sean whispered into the new darkness, "Is it bad that we do this?"

"No," said Evelyn curling up on her side next to him. They rarely cuddled as they fell asleep anymore, though they often did when they woke up in the mornings. It was a mark of how secure he felt around her that this didn't bother him. He had finally reached the point where he slept better when she was there than when she wasn't, cover-wars and all. "All we do is sleep."

"Yeah," said Sean. He reached across her and ran his fingers over her back a few times. "I guess that's true."

"Don't worry about it," said Evelyn. 'It,' thought Sean, could have been several things in this instance. For example, he had realized again today just how close the third and final task was and he still had absolutely no idea what was coming.

"Night," he said, after too long. She was, as usual, out already. She had a gift of falling asleep instantly that Sean coveted. "Love you," he added. He smoothed his hand over her hair once and shut his own eyes.


	32. The Quidditch House Cup

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Two. The Quidditch House Cup

"Alright, men. Women. This could very well be my last real competitive game of Quidditch. And Sean and Marcie's too," said Marlowe, pacing back and forth in front of his team. They were all dressed and ready to go in their blue robes, brooms lined up neatly along the wall.

"Aw, don't say that, Marlowe. You're making me sentimental," said Sean.

"Don't interrupt. The rest of you- well... it's your last game with the two of us anyway so... basically, no pressure but we absolutely cannot lose under any circumstances."

Theo and Clara smirked at one another. Luckily, Marlowe was not looking.

"Now, would anyone oblige me in reciting... the magic number."

Everyone stared at him blankly. Everyone except Elliot who raised a tentative hand.

Marlowe nodded at him.

"Four hundred and thirty," said Elliot promptly.

Marlowe beamed. "Glad to see I've indoctrinated you with the true weight of Hogwarts Quidditch. That's correct. _That _is the number of points we need to be ahead by before Theo can catch the snitch. _That _is your new best friend. My chasers... score like you've never scored before. Clara, smack the bludgers at those canaries like they've just slept with your boyfriend." (Theo flushed scarlet at this).

"Speaking of whom, Theo, you keep their seeker distracted at all costs until the score is up. Don't let them catch it before we can get the lead we need. And Sean, don't you go letting any of their goals through. If the Hufflepuff's have a fault, it's that they're honest. And it's to our benefit that that isn't an asset in quidditch. They don't know how to trick anyone. So trust that wherever it looks like the quaffle is heading to, that's probably where it's heading to. You guys, this is life... Or death."

"Okay, hang on-" said Eddie, raising his hand to stop Marlowe continuing. "I get what you're saying. I do. And your pep talks have always been dramatic, but like..."

"It's borderline goofy, Marlowe," said Clara, finishing for him.

Marlowe blinked, surprised, but then he sighed.

"I'm trying," he began slowly, "to..." He sighed again. "To distract myself from the fact that... this is my last game. I spent seven years thinking that professional quidditch was a given and- well, it's just not going to happen anymore. I chose something else. Someone else." His eyes flickered to Sean. "God, that sounds sappy. Sorry. The point is, this is it for me. And I don't like knowing that, but I don't want to think about yet. I've got one more game to play. And I always wanted to win but... now it's for real. Now, we've really got to."

"So... let's quit talking and let's go do it," said Sean.

Marlowe gave a firm nod. "Yeah. Also... I love you guys. This is a good team. A really good team. And also... last thing I promise- no one break your hand okay?"

Sean grimaced at the thought but laughed along with everyone else.

On that note, they marched out onto the field, Marlowe in the lead. He strode out to shake hands with Hufflepuff's captain, a sixth year named Boris, with his head buzzing and the roar of the crowd muffled in his ears. This was really it. One game and his quidditch career was done. He'd accepted it now. No matter what Caiti said, he knew there was no chance. He'd known it since St. Mungo's. It had taken months to let it sink in, but it had.

Still, he didn't love quidditch any less for it. It wasn't the fault of the sport. Only the people in it. And he was going to enjoy this last game.

"Oh my god," said Caiti.

"What?" asked Evelyn, head snapping up. She had a book in her lap which she'd been studying while they waited for the game to begin. N.E.W.T.s were just around the corner and she'd become a machine in the last two weeks, rarely doing anything without a book or notes or, at the very least, her wand out.

"Oh my god," she said again, clapping a hand over her mouth. "No, no, no... I mean... good... but... oh my god. Oh my god, I can't watch this."

"Can't watch what?" asked Evelyn impatiently. "They haven't even started yet."

"There are quidditch reps here. Look across. Where the professors are sitting." Caiti actually doubled over, turning her head so her cheek rested on her knee and she could watch Evelyn's reaction. Evelyn squinted across the stands, but her eyes relaxed as soon as she spotted them. It was hard to miss them, in their bright orange robes, two large black C's on the back. The Chudley Cannons.

"Well, that's great," said Evelyn.

"Is it?" asked Caiti weakly. She wrapped her arms under her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Yes, it is," said Evelyn at once. "No matter what, that means they agreed with your letter, that it was wrong to take him out of consideration just for... Caiti, they're setting a precedent. Maybe they'll speak out against werewolf discrimination in sport."

"Yes, but what if they _aren't _here for Marlowe. It could be for Hufflepuff or... or for Sean."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows at her. "They aren't here for Sean," she said. "He's a good player, but he's not Marlowe. Even I know that and I know nothing about quidditch."

Caiti slowly began to sit up again. "Okay so... what if they are here for Marlowe? What if... what if he sees them and it makes him nervous. Or what if he just has a bad game and this is it for him? Or what if... what if they just decide not to take him, no matter what they think of discrimination and whatever and then I got his hopes up for nothing and then he hates me because I dragged out something that was bad enough already and-"

"Caiti," said Evelyn firmly. "First of all, his hopes aren't up. He really doesn't think he'll ever play again. I heard him and Sean talking about it. And even if he did, it's still not your fault. And he won't hate you."

"God, I shouldn't have ever gotten involved," she breathed, staring across at the reps who were now shaking hands with the headmaster. "I'm so nervous."

Evelyn reached for her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Don't worry about them, okay? He'll be fine."

She started to let go of Caiti's hand but Caiti tightened her own grip, looked at Evelyn and said, "Don't let go, okay?"

Evelyn smiled a little, shut her book with her other hand, and folded her fingers back down over Caiti's just as the balls were released and the players took off.

Something about his speech must have worked, because in the first seven minutes of the game, his chasers scored three goals. Marlowe swerved between the Hufflepuff players, hoping to knock them of course by proximity as often as with the bludger. The fewer chances they had at the goal, the better. He wanted Sean to be bored out of his mind.

By the time the score had reached seventy to zero, Marlowe had decided he'd overplayed Hufflepuff's defensive _and_ offensive skill (not that he regretted this - better over-prepared, than under).

The only thing he was truly worried about now was Theo. He didn't doubt that they could win. If the snitch was spotted, Theo was sure to catch it. He was much smaller than the Hufflepuff seeker. Light and speedy. Still, the other seeker wasn't a joke. In fact, he was quite good. He'd caught the snitch in both Hufflepuff's other games, though they had still lost both. And what if Theo was forced to catch the snitch too soon? What if they won the game and lost the cup?

In his mind, the two events were linked. It was both or none. He had never really considered the possibility of losing in one sense and winning in another, but now it seemed like one was the most likely outcome. A lead of four hundred and thirty before the snitch was caught seemed crazy. How were they meant to score forty three goals without letting their rivals score any? And if Sean did let a goal in, the number the Ravenclaws had to score ticked up again.

A bludger whizzed past his broom, hurtling towards Elodie, who was in possession of the quaffle and Marlowe snapped back into action. They wouldn't win in any sense if he didn't get his head in the game. He shot forward and whacked the bludger towards one of the opposing chasers, who was heading towards Elodie from her right in the hopes of knocking her - and the quaffle - out of the way of the scoring region. At the sight of bludger, the girl spun in mid air, barely keeping hold of her broom and Elodie was able to launch the quaffle into the center hoop where it spun just past the captain and keeper's outstretched arms.

"Eighty to zero!" rang out the commentators voice. "Boris really fought for that one, but the Ravenclaw chaser's aim is just too good for him."

"Damn right it is," muttered Marlowe, throwing a quick glance up at Theo to make sure all was well with the seeking. In this case, that meant no sighting. Not until much later anyway. They were off to a good start, but it was just that. A start.

Marlowe sought out the bludgers again, hoping to keep the Hufflepuff chaser he had just knocked out of Elodie's way, from scoring. Clara seemed to have had the same thought, and he saw her over at the other end of the field, lodging a bludger at the girl who was now doubled over on her broom and speeding towards Sean's goal. One of their beaters intercepted it and sent it far in the other direction, but Marlowe, making a well-calculated guess at it's new direction, shot off towards it and smacked it at her again. Clara met it halfway and with a last hit in their ping pong match, made perfect contact with the quaffle itself. It dropped out of the girl's hands and into Eddie's and everyone swerved to fly in the other direction. Clara held out a hand to high five Marlowe as they redirected and he grinned at her.

If there was one good thing about his need for such a high score, it was drawing out his last game. Clara had just reminded him that this was fun.

With that, his mood totally shifted.

They were going to win the whole thing. He was sure of it.

They were up one hundred and forty points. Ravenclaw's defense was performing so harmoniously that Sean had hardly needed to defend the goal at all. The quaffle had flown at him maybe three times and each of these had been easy saves. He felt more like a spectator on a broom than a player, except that he was significantly more invested in the outcome of the match.

As the chasers took off for the other end of the pitch again - Eddie had just stolen the quaffle - Sean took a quick glance up at Theo. he doubletook. Theo had flattened himself down on his broom and was diving steeply towards something.

Or someone... following the direction of Theo's momentum, Sean spotted, not a glimmer of gold or a flutter of tiny wings, but the Hufflepuff seeker, a dozen yards ahead of Theo, arm outstretched.

If the other team caught the snitch, they won the game. Their lead would be almost impossible to come back from just based on goal scoring, but the hundred and fifty points awarded to the team who caught the snitch would still top Ravenclaw, if only just. Sean gripped the handle of his broom hard, unable to rip his eyes away from Theo. "C'mon," he muttered. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..."

Though he was far away, he thought he saw the Hufflepuff seeker's fist closing, oblivious to the fact that Theo was speeding towards him from behind. Without even trying to reroute, Theo crashed into their seeker, knocking them both sideways, off their brooms. They were not far from the ground after such a long and steep dive, but it still had to hurt.

Sean couldn't be too worried though, because the Hufflepuff seeker's attitude as he stood made it perfectly clear Theo's rather desperate move had worked: he had not caught the snitch.

Unfortunately, focusing on these events, he completely ignored the fact that Hufflepuff was back in possession and had just shot an effortless goal through his wide open right hoop.

"Ten points to Hufflepuff! Guess O'Connell felt bad about that forced collision between the two seekers and let one in easy," called out the announcer.

"Crap!" shouted Sean, as play turned towards the opposite goal posts again.

"What happened?" called Marlowe as he swiveled around in midair on his way to the other end.

"Sorry!" Sean yelled back. He did not know what else he could say.

He was still feeling so guilty and embarrassed over the incident that when the opposition flew his way again, following another successful goal from Ravenclaw, he fumbled and let in a second goal.

Marlowe signaled for a time out and the ref blew the whistle.

Sean flew down with the rest of the team feeling sick to his stomach. If they lost and it was his fault, Marlowe would never forgive him for it.

"I'm sorry," said Sean at once. "I don't know what happened-"

But Marlowe wasn't looking at Sean. He was looking at Theo who, after his fall, was limping and had a large, dark bruise already blossoming on the side of his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No," said Theo. "But I can still play. I promise I'm good enough to play."

"Tell the truth. Because we have alternates... I can put someone else in you need to see the nurse."

"I'm fine," he assured them. "I promise. I'm fine."

Marlowe hesitated, but then he sighed. "Fine," he said. He turned to Sean now. "Sean, don't freak yourself out, it's only two goals. We'll be able to come back still. Just stop thinking about it. And the rest of you, just keep scoring. Don't get too comfortable."

The whistle blew again - timeouts were never long enough - and they all nodded darkly to each other and jumped back on their brooms to resume.

* * *

"I can't watch this," said Caiti, leaning forward again, face in her hands. It was probably the fortieth time she had said so. Ravenclaw was up three hundred and eighty to twenty. It seemed impossible that Ravenclaw would not win at this point and the dismal atmosphere in the Hufflepuff section seemed to have accepted this as fact. But still, odd things were happening. Theo had had probably seven opportunities to catch the snitch by now and still hadn't. It didn't even seem like he was trying. Once he had actually sat still while it flew right past his face.

"What are they waiting for?" asked Evelyn. "They're going to win, aren't they?"

"God, I don't know. What if Marlowe's seen the reps and he's told them to draw the game out as long as possible so they can see him player longer?"

"I doubt it," said Evelyn. "I think he's been too busy to look around the stands much."

They fell quiet, Caiti digging her nails into her face with nerves and Evelyn drumming her hands against her knees. All around them, the Ravenclaw supporters were tense, though no one quite seemed to know why. They should have been overjoyed at the huge lead, excepting that undeniable sense that something was off.

"Hang on. Hang on- Caiti. Look up." Evelyn grabbed her shoulder and shook her a little.

Caiti peeked up again. "What?" she asked.

"Look at Theo," said Evelyn. Her eyes were pointed up above the chasers who had just put another goal in for Ravenclaw. Caiti found him following a path that seemed random but was clearly anything but. The snitch was there, feet in front of him, but he hadn't even taken his hand off the broom to grab it.

"Something's up," said Caiti. "They've got some stupid plan."

The Hufflepuff seeker seemed to have noticed something was odd too and had rerouted towards him. "Oh no, oh no," breathed Evelyn.

"I can't look," said Caiti again. Evelyn could not tear her eyes away. "What is he _doing?"_

Ravenclaw scored four more times while she watched but she barely heard it announced. "Did he catch it yet?" asked Caiti, hiding her face in her hands.

"No, not yet," said Evelyn, and it seemed impossible that he wouldn't have at least lost it to the other seeker at this point. "You don't think he got concussed when they collided do you?"

"No," said Caiti, removing her hands again. "No, he's too on it." She gripped Evelyn's hand again. Theo had one eye on the snitch and the other on the opposing seeker. Somehow, miraculously, he was managing to not only follow the snitch and keep it close, but also to ensure that Hufflepuff did _not_ catch the snitch.

Ravenclaw scored again, now 430 to 20. Theo gave the Hufflepuff seeker an extra hard shove and then he was back on the tail of the snitch. Following it had brought the two of them down into the middle of the main play area. Evelyn didn't understand how he could possibly keep his eye on the snitch and the other seeker with six chasers, four beaters, two bludgers, and a quaffle all spiraling around him.

Sean blocked a goal. Ravenclaw scored again. Still, Theo did not catch the snitch. Instead, he cut off the other seeker, again. They dove low after the the fluttering golden wings until the ball was just inches above the grass.

Marlowe zoomed right past where Caiti and Evelyn sat and they heard him yell to Theo "Keep on it! Hold him off!"

"Oh my god," groaned Caiti. "This is maddening. Just catch the stupid thing already."

"They're working the score up," said Evelyn. "I just don't know what to."

She looked down at Sean, hoping things on his end were less dramatic. One of Hufflepuff's chasers held the quaffle in one hand, preparing to score, and threw a well aimed attempt at the goal. It streaked towards the outer edge of the left hoop and Sean had to lean so far off his broom to catch it that he slammed into the side of the hoop, hard, almost losing his broom entirely.

Evelyn shrieked, clapping her hand over her mouth.

Sean doubled over, hanging onto the hoop. The quaffle slipped out of his hands and fell straight down towards the earth. Elodie dove after it, tailed by a Hufflepuff. Above them, Marlowe whacked one of the bludgers straight between the two, causing the Hufflepuff to swerve. It hit Elodie in the shoulder, but she had the quaffle already and she didn't drop it.

She shot towards the other end of the field, tossed to Eddie, who had not just had his scoring arm injured, and he threw the quaffle hard and fast into the goal, a perfect curveball. The Hufflepuff keeper took off for the left goal, but it wrapped back around and fell through the center hoop.

"Now, Theo! NOW!" bellowed Marlowe, over the roar of the crowd.

Theo reached out, finally, and, with one last block of his opponent, his fingers closed around the snitch.

"That's four hundred and _fifty _to twenty and-" began Bill at the microphone. "Wait- that's it! That's the game! Ravenclaw's got the snitch! Ravenclaw wins, six hundred to twenty. Ravenclaw wins the match and the cup!"

Caiti jumped up, throwing her arms in the air. Evelyn stood quickly as well, but it was only because the crowd had blocked her view of Sean. She didn't smile or cheer until she caught another glimpse of him and found that he had turned around and was heading towards the ground with the rest of the team, looking winded and a little in pain, but otherwise okay. "Oh thank god," she said, though no one heard her over the roar of the crowd.

Caiti yelled something but her voice was drowned out. "What?" Evelyn yelled back.

Caiti shook her head, grabbed, Evelyn's arm and towed her through the crowd and towards the steps leading down to the pitch.

* * *

Marlowe hit the ground in a daze. After all that. It was over. They had actually won. He wanted to be as excited as he'd thought he would be, to feel that buzz of elation, unable to wipe the grin off his face, but though he did smile, it felt just the tiniest bit forced.

Quidditch was over. For him anyway. He spotted Caiti hurtling down the steps to the pitch, but only for a split second before her little stature was swallowed up by the blooming crowd.

The team huddled up together, most paired up and hugging.

Sean landed next to Marlowe - the last to make it to the ground - looking a little worse for the wear. "Well," he said, wrapping his arm around Marlowe's shoulders in a way that made Marlowe think he was trying to play off a brotherly nature to cover up his completely literal need for physical support.

"We did it," said Marlowe. "And you... get to the hospital wing okay?"

"I'm fine," said Sean, "just... bad bruise on my ribs is all."

"Yeah, well... go anyway. You've got the last task in a week. Don't sabotage yourself."

Sean didn't seem to be going anywhere, and anyway, the team had turned to him now, expecting some sort of a speech. Marlowe opened his mouth before he knew what to say. His eyes flicked across the team, some of them nursing small injuries, but grinning ear to ear anyway.

"I love you guys," he said finally. "Best team I've ever had. Best team I've ever _played _on," he corrected. "I don't... I don't know what else to say."

His voice had gone a little funny and his eyes glassed over. He was afraid he'd cry if he continued. Since when had he become such a sap?

Luckily, at that moment, an unfamiliar voice behind him said, "Mr. Finnegan? May we have a word with you?"

Marlowe turned around at once, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. Two men stood there, both stocky in build but rather tall. "Uh- yeah," he said. Then he noticed their robes: blindingly bright orange. A small "CC" patch had been sewn on the chest. His heart rate sped up. "Yeah, of course," he said. He made a quick turn back to his team and said, "Someone get Sean to the hospital wing, will you? And Theo for that matter," and then he followed the two wizards a short distance away.

"My name is Jordan Daniels and this Marcus O'Brien. We're former beaters for the Chudley Cannons and work now in recruitment. Mr. Finnegan, I understand you're interested in pursuing a career in professional quidditch," said the one on the left.

"Yes," said Marlowe at once. "I'd- yes. Definitely."

O'Brien spoke now. "We were impressed with your performance today, both as a captain, and a beater. Your team works well together and certainly in search of a common goal. Did you ask your seeker to purposely hold off on the snitch today?"

"We needed four hundred and thirty points before the snitch in order to win the cup," said Marlowe with a sheepish grin. "So I told him to wait if he could."

"That's a risky move," said Daniels. "But you had the sort of team to pull it off and the leadership to feel confident about it."

"Yeah," agreed Marlowe. "I was lucky to have them."

"Mr. Finnegan," said O'Brien. "We'd like to offer you a reserve contract with the Cannons."

Marlowe went still and quiet. He had expected this from the moment they'd begun talking with him, but to hear it out loud was totally different.

"You know I'm a werewolf?" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Daniels, calmly. "We're aware of the situation. It's both illegal and immoral to use an unfortunate circumstance as grounds to dismiss a perfectly capable player from consideration."

"And further," continued O'Brien, "We at the Chudley Cannons wish to be a leader to the Magical Sports Industry in matters of discrimination which have gone largely unaddressed as a whole, but we also believe that the statement would not be nearly as powerful if the player to instigate it were not truly talented and committed to the sport. It's not a decision we make lightly, Mr. Finnegan. We don't want anyone to have the opportunity to say you were chosen because we felt sorry for you."

"You would be taking on more pressure than the average quidditch player," said Daniels. "You would be under more scrutiny. We would have to ask you to keep your focus on the game, not on whatever rumors might surround you. We believe the only way to dispel any dissent surrounding your appointment to the team is to prove that, no matter what you might be, you're an asset to the team. And we believe you would be."

"I don't know what to say," said Marlowe, eyes wide.

"Let's begin," said O'Brien with a kind smile, "with yes or no."

"Yes," said Marlowe. "Yes, I want to."

They smiled. "Excellent," said O'Brien. He waved his wand and conjured a scroll with very small black lettering all the way down. "We'll ask you to read this over thoroughly and send it back to our offices signed by next Friday with your official answer."

"Okay," said Marlowe, taking the scroll. "Thank you." He could barely the get the words out. He felt almost dizzy. He could not believe this was happening. He'd never given any thought to playing for the Cannons before - truthfully, they sucked, he'd always hoped for better - but then he'd never thought he'd be fighting for a place on any team against the odds he'd been given so recently. And maybe this was the year they were trying to turn things around, to get some really good players, great management...

And no matter what, they were a professional quidditch team and they wanted _him _to play for them.

"We'll let you go," said Daniels. "I believe someone's been waiting to speak to you for a few minutes now."

"Caiti," said Marlowe at once. "Uhm.. thank you, again. Really."

"We look forward to hearing from you."

Marlowe turned around and the second he did, Caiti went hurtling towards him and threw her arms around him. "What'd they say?" she asked loudly.

"I got a contract," said Marlowe, clutching the papers behind her back. Saying it aloud made it real for the first time. "Oh my god," he said, a grin slowly spreading on his face. "Oh my god... I need to... I need to _do_ something."

Caiti stood up on tiptoe and kissed him. She pulled back, beaming, and he said, "Can we make out?" Caiti laughed loudly and kissed him again. He kept hold of her with one arm, stuck the contract into the pocket of his robes, and let his broom fall on the ground. He felt lucky for the first time since he'd been bitten.


	33. Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Three. Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests

"I literally have no idea why I'm even bothering to study for this," said Marlowe. He and Sean were thirty five minutes away from their Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. It would be their third exam. They'd had Charms the previous morning, and Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon. Marlowe was mentally exhausted and also, as of very recently, a little jaded about the whole school thing.

"I mean," he said, for the thousandth time, "I _have _a job. And I don't need any of this to do it."

"That makes one of us," said Sean, who had, to counter Marlowe's extreme laxity, been short and irritable ever since the excitement of the last quidditch match had finished, leaving his mind free to focus on the upcoming exams and – to make matters worse – the Third Task which was just a week away.

"You know you don't even have to take these, right?" Marlowe asked, also for the thousandth time. He had already proposed a trade on several occasions. Sean had not found this little joke very funny.

"I'm not required to," he said again. "But I need to."

"Well aren't you wasting time you should be using to prepare for the third task?"

Sean jabbed his pencil against the open page of his textbook. "It would feel that way," said Sean in a low voice, "if I had any idea what the third task _was. _Now if you don't mind, some of us would actually like to study."

Marlowe sighed dramatically and slid down low in his seat to pout. Caiti had just left for her potions final which she had actually been excited to take – so excited that she couldn't resist leaving far too early. He'd offered to let her take his potions N.E.W.T. for him, but she had not found the offer any funnier than Sean had. She did, however, promise to help him prepare.

Marlowe opened his notes again and pretended to go over them one last time. It wasn't that he didn't care, really, it was just that, now that he had almost secured a job – he hadn't gotten around to signing the contract yet, though he'd have to do so in the next two days – he'd lost any motivation to prove himself. At least for the time being.

And anyway, he'd had enough of proving himself lately. The whole second half of the year it seemed like it was all he'd done.

He just couldn't focus. And he figured if he didn't know it now, he wasn't going to know it for the exam anyway. He put away his notes again and pulled out the contract. It was a little crumpled from carrying it around in his bag the whole week, so he smoothed it out the best he could on the table and looked at the little line at the bottom where he was expected to sign.

It should have been so easy to do it. He'd wanted this his entire life. He still wanted it. He didn't doubt that, at all.

But he still hadn't brought himself to sign it. He read through the fine print again, the only thing he'd been able to focus on at all. He didn't have any qualms with any of it. It was a three year rookie contract at the minimum pro salary (which was still _plenty _in his opinion), after which point, they would either offer to renew his contract, moving him off the reserve list, or he would be free to market himself to other teams in the league in the hopes of more money.

He really couldn't have hoped for better. Still every time he picked up a quill to sign it, he couldn't. He was hoping to talk to Caiti about it that night. He and Sean had a free exam slot that afternoon, but he was sort of wishing Evelyn were free too. She was another person he would have liked to discuss the situation with. Marlowe didn't know anyone else who had such a clear outlook on life. He always felt better after he talked to her.

But Evelyn wasn't free. She had her divination N.E.W.T. And after all, it was Caiti who was to thank for getting him the contract in the first place. If not for her, he wouldn't be staring at that empty signature line at all.

"We should go," said Sean suddenly, eyes on his watch.

"Oh," said Marlowe. He rolled up the parchment again and stuck it in his bag. "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

The practical examination came first. A half a dozen examiners took them one by one into the woods, calling their names out in alphabetical order. Sean watched Marlowe go in and come back out again, wishing his last name were nearer the front end of the alphabet. There were only around twenty students sitting the exam, but that was enough that he was one of the last to go. He sat through two groups of six entering and exiting before his name was called. "O'Connell, Sean?" said a stout old woman at last.

Sean's stomach dropped with a sudden onset of nerves. He approached the woman and she led him a short ways into the forest. The morning air was cool and damp, more so under cover of the thick growing trees. The dirt was soft under his shoes. He sunk a little with each step. Still, it felt good to get out of the castle. The fresh air did at least a little to calm him.

The woman stopped in a small clearing. "Nothing to worry about, dear, nice and easy. We'll have two creatures, two short tasks each, and then you'll be off to prepare for the written test at ten. This will only take a few minutes. I'll ask you now to locate a bowtruckle in one of these trees – there are plenty there though they do like to hide. And if you'll just talk me through what you're doing, please."

"Well," said Sean, heart beating a little faster than usual. His mouth felt very dry. He took a look around the clearing, stopping at a tree to his left. "This is an... this an elm tree, isn't it?"

"Is it?" said the examiner, with a kind smile.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. It is," said Sean more definitively. He took a deep breath through his nose and continued with a little more confidence. "You can tell by the kind of greyish-white wood and the way it's trunk splits off. And also," - he took a few steps closer to the tree now, reaching for a low hanging branch - "it's leaves are fuzzy on the back.

"And- and bowtruckles are tree guardians, right, so... they hang out where the tree could be at risk. Elm is one of the more rare wand woods, so the bowtruckle will become violent if they think someone is doing harm to their tree. Unless you give them some woodlice." Sean pulled apart a low cluster of branches, looking in between for a stowaway hiding there. They were hard to find because of their natural camouflage but you could usually spot one wiggling in a way that was far too flexible for the average twig.

"Ah," he said. He'd just spotted one's little face peeking out between the feathery spring leaves. He picked it up carefully and let it sit in the open palm of his hand.

"Excellent," said the woman, "You'll notice this one's had it's arm snapped." Sure enough, Sean noted that's it's right, twig-like arm was dangling by a woody thread. "Can you show me what you would do to help it mend?"

Sean touched the place with his finger and the little creature quivered and recoiled. He took another look around the clearing and found, a short ways into the more overgrown area off the trails, an old, rotting log from a fallen tree. He took out his wand and performed a simple charm to roll it over. On the underside were a collection of small woodlice. Sean collected a few and offered them to the bowtruckle to distract it. Then he reached back up into the elm tree and pulled off one small leaf. He bound the leaf around it's arm and sealed it with another tap of his wand.

"If I'd learned healing magic I would just mend it that way, but I don't want to make it worse," said Sean. "And I know that bowtruckles are so in tune with their homes they can source parts of the tree they live in to keep them healthy and to help them camouflage better when they move from tree to tree. They can sort of adapt to what's around them and take in elements of their environment." The bowtruckle flexed it's arm with curiosity.

"Excellent," said the woman, with a wide, rosy smile through closed lips. "Now if you'll return our little friend to the tree, we'll be on our way." Sean placed the bowtruckle back in the tree. It stood atop the branches, eyeing them for a moment before slinking back into it's hiding spot and disappearing.

They walked on, skirting a shallow path around the edge of the forest. Perhaps it was simply the fresh air and a little approval from someone who had the authority to give it, but Sean felt marginally less stressed than he had done in a long time.

* * *

Evelyn met the boys at lunch, but her company was anything but pleasant. She spent the whole time intermittently shoveling down her lunch or otherwise sitting very still with her eyes shut and her hands clasped in her lap, muttering to herself about palmistry and the effects of Venus on stepbrothers.

Marlowe had often wondered why she even took Divination since she'd spent five years scoffing at her textbook. He'd brought this up to Sean once when Evelyn was out of earshot and he'd said he supposed seeing the future was a muggle fantasy about magic that she wasn't able to let go of, even knowing that ninety eight percent of the time, it was a load of tosh. And anyway, Evelyn was far too pragmatic to be a seer.

"You wanna knock around on the quidditch pitch a bit?" Marlowe asked now.

Sean looked up from his plate. "We've got transfiguration tomorrow morning. Got to study."

"Right," said Marlowe glumly. He'd hoped that they could do something besides sit in silence for even just a fraction of their one exam-free afternoon. "Well, I guess I'll see you later then. I need a break." He took a last gulp of his pumpkin juice and began to gather his things.

"Hang on," said Evelyn. "Only just remembered... saw it this morning.." she was rummaging around in her bag, thick red waves swinging in front of her face. Marlowe was shocked. He hadn't even realized she knew he was there.

She emerged again, tucking her hair behind her ear and thrust two newspaper clippings at him, one which looked much older than the rest. "Read these alright? I should've given you the first one a long time ago but- I don't really have a reason, I just didn't."

Marlowe frowned but took them from her anyway. "Uhm... thanks," he said.

She smiled. Marlowe walked away confused and tucked the articles in his bag for later.

Marlowe pulled off his school robes and hung them over the end of the bench in the locker rooms below the Quidditch pitch. Most of the fabric pooled on the floor, but he wasn't bothered. He grabbed his broom and headed outside.

It had turned into a truly glorious day. The sun was out. The sky was clear. Summer and freedom seemed so tantalizingly close except that it was all tainted by his deep-seated terror at the thought of what was really waiting for him outside the cloistered walls surrounding Hogwarts. All he had to worry about here were P's, D's, and T's on his N.E.W.T.s and the occasional weightless taunts from immature school kids. Out there... there was a lot to worry about. He didn't want to think about it.

But there was at least one thing he couldn't put off thinking about and that was why on earth he hadn't signed the contract yet.

It felt good to fly again. The wind whipped through his hair as he picked up speed and the sun, as he rose high in the air, was warm and inviting. He had no doubts that he really loved quidditch. Out here on the pitch, flying - it felt more right than just about anything.

He checked his watch every so often although he knew he'd only been outside a few minutes, praying that time had somehow sped by and Caiti would be free. He really wanted to talk to her. It was the only thing he could coherently think to do that might help.

He flew beyond the pitch and over the lake. The deck of the durmstrang ship was populated with students enjoying the warm weather. He thought he saw several of them look up and follow his progress out of sight.

He skimmed over the deep blue, rippling surface of the water out in the middle of the lake and then rocketed back up and zipped over to the place where the trees began to thicken. He zigzagged overtop the trees, peering down at the place he'd walked through for his Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. just this morning. The forest looked like one big canopy of leaves from this vantage point, with the small clearings scattered throughout the wood providing the only peeks inside.

He smiled to think about the students closeted up inside classrooms, sitting exams, while he was out here. But his smugness only lasted a moment; the one person he wanted to see was one of those students stuck inside.

He checked his watch again. He'd been flying around forty minutes. He decided to turn back now, slowing to a glide on his way back to the pitch.

Once he arrived, he flew back to the ground to change back into his school robes and put his broom away. He still had another half hour or so to wait before Caiti's exam got out so he decided to walk slowly.

Only, when he bent down to lift up his school bag, which had been sitting open, he spotted the articles Evelyn had given him as he'd left the Great Hall. They were folded up so that he could only read part of the title, but what he could see read "Arrest Followi-." Curiosity peaked, he set his bag back down and sat on the bench, articles in hand.

He unfolded the one on top. The full title read "First Arrest Following Linked Muggle Baiting Crimes." The date was long passed and he wondered why Evelyn thought he should read this now, or, for that matter, ever. She knew he was not one to read the papers or keep up with the times. It was only when he was around to hear her discussing that day's finding with Sean that he was ever updated on the events of the wider wizarding world. Ninety nine percent of it just didn't affect him. He couldn't be bothered.

Still, he began to skim through the article. It was immediately clear why this particular instance might pertain to him: Fenwick arrested for muggle baiting?

Even Marlowe, who had a plenty good enough reason not to think too highly of the supposed criminal, thought the accusation preposterous. He read through the claims with his forehead creased deeply and then set it aside and opened the second article.

MINISTRY RELEASES MISTAKENLY DETAINED PRISONER

_Mr. Robert Fenwick, formerly head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Registered Werewolf, was recently detained under the pretense of involvement in the recent muggle baiting incidents, but has just been released from Azkaban. Fenwick returns home after nearly two months in the wizarding prison. His captors say he remained calm and passive throughout his tenure there, though resolute in his statements of innocence._

_While the sudden quieting of the incidents following Fenwick's initial arrest may have seemed indication of a correct accusation, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement admits, "with great embarrassment and apology" that evidence has surfaced to make the claims invalid._

_Of the hiatus from muggle-baiters, the Ministry warns the wizarding community to remain vigilant. "The few leads our aurors have make me certain the current cease-fire is only a temporary convenience for those committing the crimes. Perhaps they hoped to use [Fenwick] as a scapegoat though they knew it to be a false arrest," said the minister on Tuesday evening._

There was no more written - no explanation of _what _claims precisely had rendered the initial call invalid, no statement from Fenwick himself, just a short article to clear the Ministry's tracks.

But Marlowe got plenty out of it. He had finally realized why he was so reluctant to sign the contract and send it back.

Fenwick, was, of course, a perfect scapegoat. The minister himself had said it, though he'd pinned what was probably his own idea on someone else. Robert Fenwick was one of only a few registered werewolves in the public eye, and he had successfully doomed himself when he'd bitten Marlowe only a few months ago, at an event he was attending for his Ministry duties, no less.

How easy it must have been to pin the crimes on someone who was already deemed untrustworthy, and all because of something that had never been his choice. All because someone else had lost their mind for a night and bitten him. And that someone else had been bitten in the same way by another someone who'd been bitten by someone else, and none of them had meant any of it, because it wasn't their choice.

And who would choose it, thought Marlowe.

Who would choose it besides a kid who'd fallen in love with his best friends little sister, who had a split second to make a decision, and never had the chance to think about it?

Marlowe could not let himself regret it, but it still made him sick to think that this _had _been his choice, even if the circumstances made the decision much more understandable.

Though Marlowe would probably never like, or even feel truly sorry for Mr. Fenwick, he could resonate with him. He knew the man had never meant to bite him or anyone else that night.

Their situations, if Marlowe took this job, were going to be more similar than he had realized. He would be, as Mr. Fenwick had, in the public eye, albeit of a more popular sort. And while he was flattered by the idea that he could be a spokesperson for change, even driven a little by the Gryffindor heroics his father had tried to inspire in him, he was still highly logical.

He could not overlook the fact that one mistake could put him in the exact place as Mr. Fenwick, who had also fought for change for the werewolf community. His one mistake had landed him in an impossible situation. Marlowe could not imagine he would ever hold another real job, and certainly his name would register too fearfully with any new acquaintance after the recent scandal(s) all over the papers. And worse, his one mistake had backtracked the progress he'd made.

Marlowe would have to be so, so careful if he took this job. He could not make a mistake like Mr. Fenwick had. He could never miss his potion. And even with it, he'd have to make sure he was someplace completely secure, just in case something was off. He would have to think before he spoke, every single time. He would have to be outwardly perfect.

It was a lot to take on.

But then another idea occurred to him, this one more hopeful, maybe even a little stupid. It was certainly not something he would ever admit aloud to anyone. Not even Caiti, probably, although he couldn't promise that because she had a way of making him say things he had meant to keep to himself.

He wondered if, when Mr. Fenwick had bitten him he had, accidentally of course, sort of passed the baton... so to speak... to Marlowe. In that moment, he'd given up his chance of being a voice for werewolves. Perhaps he had then given it to Marlowe.

Not to toot his own horn, Marlowe thought, but he would be a pretty damn good revolution leader. He had the personality for it anyway, never taking anything too seriously, almost always able to crack a joke, but still deeply passionate about things - certain things. Yes, Marlowe was certainly likeable, and he definitely wasn't shy.

There were a thousand and one mixed up, twisted, entangled, and confused emotions inside him just then. But this was still the most certain he had felt about almost anything in a while. Before he could think twice about it, he pulled out the contract, now looking a little worse for the wear from it's many trips into and out of his bag, and signed his name at the bottom.

He did not need to read through the fine print. After so many rereadings trying to decipher what one thing was bothering him, he had it practically memorized. And finally that one quiet subconscious whisper, formerly inaudible over the much louder frontal voice shouting "SIGN IT! THIS IS YOUR DREAM!" had made itself heard.

Marlowe picked up his bag and headed for the owlery.

* * *

"Do you need to study tonight?" asked Marlowe as he and Caiti were leaving the Great Hall after dinner.

"I mean... a little," she said, tucking a lock of gold hair behind her ear. "Why?"

"Nothing," said Marlowe. "You should study if you need to."

"Did you need something?" Caiti asked.

He shrugged. "Not need exactly," he said. A smile crept onto his face. "Just want."

Caiti's stomach skipped. "I could probably use a break," she said in a desperate and probably pathetic attempt to be coy.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked.

Caiti reached for his hand in response and they turned right instead of left at the marble staircase and headed out the great oak front doors.

It was, in Caiti's opinion, the perfect time of day - that post-dinner dusk when it's not quite dark and not quite light. The sky that evening was pink and purple in just the right ratio and the warm spring air was cooled by a soft breeze, just enough to raise goosebumps on her arms when she fell under a patch of shade. They walked a long time in silence. These were her favorite times with him, out on the grounds, away from everyone.

"God," said Marlowe finally. "I've been dying to talk to you all day long and now I just don't have anything to say."

Caiti laughed softly.

Another minute passed. "I mailed in the contract," he said.

Caiti looked up quickly. "Really? That's- wow. Marlowe, that's huge. Why didn't you say something at dinner?"

He frowned. "I dunno," he said. "I guess- I dunno. I had a hard time signing it," he admitted.

Caiti said nothing, but her eyes remained on his, inquiring.

"I'm terrified, to be honest," he said.

"You should be," she said easily.

Now it was Marlowe's turn to give a wry laugh.

"That's encouraging," he said.

She flashed him a grin. "I just mean that it's a big deal and if you weren't scared even a little, it probably wouldn't be worth it. Nothing good comes without a little risk."

"You sound like my mom," he teased. Caiti scrunched up her nose at him, but twisted her fingers out of his and pulled him into a tight hug. Marlowe rested his chin on the top of her head, folding his arms around her. Caiti's fingers fidgeted on his back.

They rocked back and forth a few times before they separated, Marlowe's hands sliding down her arms to take loose hold of her fingers. "It really took you six years to want to kiss me?" Marlowe asked suddenly.

Caiti rolled her eyes. "God, I have never known _anyone _so persistent," she said through a laugh.

Marlowe grinned. "Just don't get too comfortable. It might've taken you six years, but when other girls find out I'm a professional quidditch player, they're going to start bargaining for an upgrade."

Caiti smacked him in the shoulder, mouth open in mock disgust. It faded into a smile. She pinched her tongue between her teeth.

"I didn't say it would be _possible_ to upgrade, I just said you're going to have competition when word gets out."

"Why do I put up with you?" Caiti asked, shaking her head.

She let go of his hands and started walking again, the smile still on her face and in her eyes.

"'Cause you know you can't upgrade either," said Marlowe confidently.

Caiti rolled her eyes although she secretly agreed. "And anyway," she continued, as if he had not answered her question, "be careful what you wish for, because I'm sure Amelia is pining for a new reason to start following you everywhere you go again.

She had been put off Marlowe since shortly after his return to school due to his uncharacteristically moody nature, but now that he was beginning to get back to his old self, Caiti doubted her lapse in flirting would hold up. Marlowe seemed to have had this same train of thought because he said, "Shoot, you're right. Let's not tell anyone about the contract, alright?"

But by the next morning, it seemed as if the whole castle knew Marlowe had signed on with the Chudley Cannons and Amelia was the first to slide right in next to him, knocking Caiti aside as if she weren't even there. Amelia threw her arms around his neck and said, "Congratulations!" in a shrill voice. Marlowe looked at Caiti over her shoulder in alarm. She just smirked at him in place of an "I told you so."

He patted Amelia on the back awkwardly before trying to extract himself. "Uh, thanks," he said.

He did not get rid of her the entire breakfast and Marlowe was disappointed to see that both Caiti and Sean found this very amusing.


	34. The Third Task

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Four. The Third Task

If there had been one good thing about putting himself through the stress of N.E.W.T.'s unnecessarily, it was that Sean had had next to no time to stress about how very little he knew about the rapidly approaching Third Task.

The day had arrived before Sean had really given it any thought. He lay in bed, perfectly still with dread filling his stomach like cement. What he did know about the task - it's time and location - seemed laughable actually. That is, it would have seemed laughable if he had been able to bring himself to laugh.

He got up slowly, wishing he had asked Evelyn to stay with him last night. But she had gone to bed so early, wiped out from a week of studying. He too had been exhausted, so much so that it had actually been easy to fall asleep without a second's thought for the third task the following afternoon.

His watch read half past eight. Just over five hours until the two o'clock start time. His heart started beating at once, thumping against his chest like a constant reminder of the seconds falling away.

Caiti stood waiting for Sean when he finally arrived downstairs. "You slept late," she said, raising her eyebrows. It was, after all, an infrequent occurrence when she was awake and ready for the day before he was.

"Yeah," said Sean. From inside his distracted head, his voice sounded like it had come out inside a bubble. "Long week."

He swallowed and blinked at the ground a few times, trying to get a hold of himself.

"Mum and dad are here," said Caiti.

"Oh yeah?" said Sean, who wasn't really paying attention.

"Yeah, so come on. They're waiting for us. I mean... they're waiting for you mostly."

"Who's waiting?" asked Sean.

Caiti frowned. "Mum and Dad."

"What? Why?" asked Sean, snapping to attention at last.

"What do you think, you idiot? They came to watch you. Come on." She grabbed him by the elbow and hauled him out of the room, hair swinging over her shoulder as she turned.

Sean followed Caiti into the side chamber of the Great Hall. He had not been in here since the day his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. He was sorry to say that his utter terror had not subsided any since that night.

Eline had already arrived and was being given what sounded like - though he couldn't be sure, because he did not speak the language - a stern pep-talk. Oscar had not yet arrived. His parents, were seated at the end of the long table that had been set up in the room, next to a crackling fire that made Sean think it was a completely different time of year.

Sean's own mother - tall and blonde, with the same rounded face that Caiti had often complained made her look baby-faced - saw them enter first. Her brown eyes brimmed with tears immediately. She cried every time her kids came home and every time they left. With neither home for Christmas this year, it was the longest she had ever gone without a visit. She hurried over to them, pulling Sean into her arms first.

"Hi Munchkin," Sean heard his dad say, next to him, giving Caiti one of his familiar side squeezes. He wasn't much of a hugger.

His mum on the other hand... he was already worried he wouldn't be able to extract himself by the time the task started.

"Hi mum," he said, hoping a conversation would follow and encourage a bit of personal space.

She pulled back, holding him by the shoulders and looked him over. "Oh, honey, you looked stressed," she said.

He couldn't help a little attitude, and he scoffed at her. "I just finished my N.E.W.T.'s yesterday and now I have to go and make a fool of myself in front of hundreds of people, he said. Yeah. I'm a _little_ stressed."

She frowned at him, but didn't press the issue, which he appreciated, but which also made him feel a little guilty.

"What's the task, then?" asked his dad, hand on Caiti's shoulder.

Sean still felt a little edgy, but he did his best to keep his voice pleasant rather than sarcastic when he said "Absolutely no idea."

"Ah, should be exciting then. Sure you'll put on quite a show," said his dad.

Sean grimaced because it was the closest thing he could manage in the way of a smile.

He spotted Caiti giving their parents a look like 'it's been like this every time' but he pretended not to notice. He had no reason to be miffed with Caiti. She wasn't the one who'd invited their parents. And anyway, how were any of them supposed to know that their being there did not make him feel supported, but rather, infinitely more nervous. It was bad enough that the tasks took place in front of his best friend, his girlfriend, his sister, his professors, and _the entire school. _He really didn't need his parents there counting on a win, too. It was so much easier to just a write a letter a few days after the fact with the watered down sequence of events and hard-boiled facts. His score for example.

Sean had never liked to boast. It had taken him over a week to tell his parents he'd been named prefect, and only then because Caiti had spotted the badge as he was packing his trunk for school that summer and tattled.

As much as he was nervous that he _wouldn't_ win, a part of him was a little nervous that he would. Not so much that he didn't want to win - a thousand galleons was pretty good compensation for a few hours stuck as the center of attention - but still. In an ideal world, he could have competed and won the tournament in private.

If only.

"It's always very exciting," said Caiti, in a vague but valiant attempt to save the conversation which Sean was single-handedly trying to plunge down the toilet.

"I wish we could have seen the last two," said his mother.

"Yeah," said Sean evasively. "Would've been nice."

She narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to say something about his attitude, but Caiti gave a little shake of her head and she shut it again.

Sean appreciated Caiti more and more with every second. In fact, he thought she might be the best sister out there. He would've thanked her for it if he wasn't peeved at everything and everyone and generally not in the mood to be nice, but he made a mental note to thank her later. She was tactful, Caiti. She saw what people needed.

Evelyn was that way too. He'd always liked that about her.

They all stood in uncomfortable silence for half a minute and then Caiti said, "Shall we have lunch?"

* * *

At quarter past one, Evelyn walked down to the site of the task with Sean. They didn't talk and they didn't hold hands. They just walked.

The air felt like fall again that day: cool and a little drizzly. The ground was soft and squishy. Water speckled her shoes with each step.

It was a long walk, all the way out to the far edge of the grounds, opposite the forest. By the time she could see the stands that had been set up for the spectators, her fingers had gone numb and her nose a little runny.

The stands faced a wide open field, but there was nothing in it to hint at what might be coming. They continued on towards the three tents to their left. Nearest them was an open-sided canvas tent, under which a dozen or so photographers and journalists were chatting jovially and, by the sound of it, making bets on a Hogwarts win. Evelyn glanced at Sean to see if he'd heard. By the look of utter terror on his face and the sheet-like pallor of his skin, she supposed he had.

Though coming out well in the first two tasks had certainly been a good way to build Sean's confidence heading into this final hurdle, she knew he saw it just as much as a burden. Hogwarts was hosting and Hogwarts expected a win.

Evelyn squeezed her cold fingers into fists before she reached for Sean's hand. They passed the open tent and all the noisy _Prophet _workers, then the second tent, which bore a flag emblazoned with a red cross - the healer's tent - and finally, approached the third and largest tent. Spread out across the center were three flags, each featuring the crest of one of the competing schools. The Hogwarts banner waved at center-center. Sean's fingers fidgeted in hers. He stopped a few feet back from the flap to enter.

"Well," said Evelyn.

Sean swallowed.

"This is it," she said, because he had not said it himself. "No matter what happens today... you're done."

"Not yet," he said. His voice was tight.

"Well you will be soon," she promised. "And then no more worrying."

"I should go," Sean said abruptly, and he let go of her hand, brushed her lower back absent-mindedly in place of a proper goodbye, and strode into the tent.

Evelyn stood outside for a few moments, rolled her lips together, pressed them tightly, and then let out a deep breath all out once. If she hadn't been so nervous for him, she probably would've been hurt.

* * *

The atmosphere in the champions tent was oddly divided. On the one hand there were the school heads and other judges, chatting jovially by the virtually untouched table of refreshments (it was not, after all, a lemonade day, nor did a slice of cheesecake seem ideal just previous to the approaching task). Each was eager to see his or her own champion come out on top.

On the other hand, there were the champions, their emotions scattered between high pressure nerves and anticipated relief at the tournament's inevitable end.

Sean sidled over to Oscar, because, if he was being honest, Eline scared him a little. After their brief moment's connection following the second task, Marlowe's situation had driven any hope of befriending his opponent out of Sean's mind, and anyway, there had been little opportunity. He very seldom saw the other champions except at a distance. But Oscar was friendly enough and he felt a special bond with him solely because they had experienced this stupid tournament together.

"How are you feeling?" Sean asked after a minute's awkward silence.

"Fine," said Oscar. He looked how Sean felt: a little green.

"I just want to get this over with," said Sean. Oscar nodded his agreement.

Sean sank down into one of the plastic folding chairs set up along the edge of the room and stretched his legs out in front of him. There was a clock directly across from him and he stared at it, watching the seconds tick closer and closer to two o'clock.

They did not speak anymore and Sean was glad because he wasn't sure he could. With no spells or strategies to review in his head, he was forced to take note of the spectators arriving. Outside the tent, the excited chatter of the student body grew steadily from a patter to a tumult, drowning out the sound of the rain spitting against the roof of the tent.

At five to two, Mr. Catchlove stood and called out "Alright, champions gather round, please."

Sean forced himself to his feet, his legs leaden. He grouped up with Oscar and Eline, standing opposite the headmasters.

"Now, we'll give you full instructions outside in a few minutes as far as what your task is, but there are a few things I'd like to say to you now.

"First, I'd like you all to be aware that this tournament is cumulative. Today is your last chance to secure yourselves a win, but it is not the signifier of the win. In other words, the winner of the third task may not be the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. Your points will be totaled from all three tasks to determine the winner.

"Second, you will be competing simultaneously in this task. There are no 'turns' as in the second task. There is also no separation as in the first task. Your playing field is shared."

He paused now and looked at the other judges. "That's all, yes? Anything else they need to know now?"

Sean watched Professor Osset shake his head.

"Right, then we'll just wait for word that the crowd has finished assembling and we'll head out. Good luck." He grinned cheekily at them all.

Sean retreated a little from the group and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was very cold already and still dreading the task, but Mr. Catchlove's words had sparked something new in him besides his ardent desire to get this over with: hope. It was possible then, that he could win, even if he came out miserably today. His first task score, after all, had been excellent, and the second, though he had not been on top, was still impressive.

It was a small help, but a little confidence had been re-instilled iand his breath had stopped catching in his throat.

Professor Mason poked his head in a minute later. "Looks like we're ready."

Mr. Catchlove jumped to attention. "Champions, if you'll follow me." They lined up at the exit, Sean at the end and followed Mr. Catchlove out. Professor Mason gave Sean a pat on the back and a firm, serious nod as he passed. As soon as they rounded the corner, and came into sight, the crowd roared. Sean's heart was pounding but at least he felt marginally like a real, live human being now and not a walking container of dread.

Sean took a look at the task site, but the large, open field told him practically nothing. All he could see was a long gold line, clearly drawn by a wand, marking the near and far ends of the field. There were no obstacles, no creatures, nothing whatsoever that looked dangerous enough to be a Triwizard Task. They stood together in front of the stands.

When he turned to face the crowd, Sean got a little dizzy. There were more faces than usual: a whole section of media people, lots of special guests from the ministry and elsewhere who had provided financial support for the logistics of the tournament, and even a select number of extra tickets sold to everyday spectators who simply wanted to be there. Added to the usual mass of students, Sean felt a little overwhelmed, not helped by the fact that he had just made out a chant beginning in the left of the stands and slowly spreading throughout as people realized what was going on: _"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts!"_

He remembered thinking how great it would be to compete in the Triwizard Tournament at his home school, but now he was sure he had been wrong. Oscar and Eline had the better deal by far. It was so much worse to know just how many people were counting on you and to have see them all right there in front of you. He turned his eyes down, not wanting to know where Evelyn, Marlowe, and his family were sitting.

Mr. Catchlove had just taken his place to the left and slightly in front of the champions. He pointed at his neck and muttered "Sonorus" and when he spoke next, his voice boomed out of the roaring crowd. The chant of "Hogwarts" was still going strong.

"Welcome, welcome everyone to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. My name is Boris Catchlove, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry and I am _thrilled, _simply _thrilled _to present to you these three _spectacularly talented _young people. It has been a true joy to see them prove themselves in the previous two tasks. I don't think there is any doubt that each of these three are worthy of their selection. And now today, we shall declare our winner."

He paused here for effect. "Now I'm sure what you're all most desperate to know is the subject of the task. Not even our champions have an inkling about what is to come so you will all be let in on the secret together. Let's get on with it, shall we?" He grinned around at everyone and then turned to face the champions, still remaining open to the crowd.

"These tournaments are, first and foremost, games, so in the spirit of fun, we'll be taking a stab at a notorious muggle playground game, enhanced of course, by magic.

Sean shoved his hands back into his pockets and stared directly at his feet, hoping to ground himself. If he had learned anything besides the fact that it had been a stupid, stupid, vain idea to think seeking out glory and riches in exchange for an entire school year's worth of stress and pure terror would be a good idea, he had learned that he was not keen on being a public figure. A background leader was more his style. A quiet good influence.

The roar of the crowd made his ears pound and his vision went fuzzy at the edges. He felt dizzy and out of sorts. He took a deep breath of damp, cold air to try and clear his head. He had to pay attention to what was said about the task or he'd be at a disadvantage.

"The game is called British bulldog." This meant nothing to Sean. He almost looked into the stands to find Evelyn, see if there was any recognition on her face. She had gone to muggle primary school after all. But he stopped himself quickly. If he knew where she was it would be worse.

"I'll give a brief explanation of the aim and rules. Your goal," he said, "is to cross the field without capture. Now normally those captured would become the new bulldogs, but as there are only three of you, we've changed the game slightly. Instead, with each crossing, our bulldogs will add one to their number until only one champion remains uncaptured. The bulldogs will attempt to capture and pin down their opponents. There is no limit to the magic you can use to avoid capture, so long as it does not directly harm or inhibit the other champions. You are safe from a round when you cross the gold line at the opposite end of the field. Each round begins when the line turns green. Now if our champions could please line up here..."

Sean jumped to attention. So that was it then. They were being thrown into the task just like that. He had barely had time to process what was being asked of them. It seemed to simple, far too simple, and so he knew to be terrified.

He followed Oscar to the gold line nearest them. Three flags marked their starting places. Sean stood by the Hogwarts flag at the center. He couldn't hear properly. The excited chatter of the crowd sounded muffled, like he was underwater.

He glanced to his right at Eline. She did not make eye contact, but rather remained facing straight forward with her eyes narrowed and intense. She wore her hair tied up in a sleek ponytail at the back of her head. To his left, Oscar was staring at the ground with his hands in the pockets of his pale blue robes. He was looking more green even than in the tent. Sean could identify.

Oscar looked up when he noticed Sean looking at him. He nodded and Sean returned it. They faced forward again. Sean swallowed hard and gripped his wand tightly.

"We will now introduce our initial bulldog," said Mr. Catchlove "Champions, please prepare yourselves... the task starts... now."

Sean only dimly registered a cannon blast signaling the official start and then the line in front of him flickering from gold to green. What he was _very _aware of, however, was a great rumbling sound. The ground shook as something began to rise up out of the ground at the other end of the field. The grass curled back in a great sheet to let it through and then began to sink back into place as if the disturbance had never happened. Sean felt rather than heard the sudden hush of the crowd going tense as they all waited to see what would happen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eline take off running full speed. What was she doing, heading right for the thing before she even knew what it was? But then the thing unfolded, and Sean wished he'd had her idea.

The bulldog really was a bulldog, except that it was made of heavy, dark stone and must have been at least four or five times the size of a normal dog. It reared back and then pushed off its hind legs and pelted towards them.

* * *

Up in the stands, Marlowe sat between Caiti and Evelyn in the front row. "What's he doing? Why isn't he running?" asked Evelyn, grabbing Marlowe's forearm tightly. Her nails dug into his wrist. Marlowe surreptitiously extracted his other arm from around Caiti – they were both feeling a little odd with Caiti's parents right there on her other side – and tried (and failed) to pry her fingers away.

"Ev," he said loudly, because he could hardly hear himself over the noise around them. "I know you're nervous, but-" He managed to slip two fingers between her thumb and his wrist though this provided only minimal relief, "but I didn't come out so well after the last task and I'd really like to leave today will all my limbs still attached."

Caiti snorted her laughter, glancing sideways at him, but Evelyn's grip was relentless.

"Oh my god," she said, over and over again. "Oh my god, _run."_

Eline was halfway across the field and Oscar had just taken off when, finally, Sean lurched forward, in the direction Oscar had gone.

"Oh no. Oh no... don't follow... if there are two of you it'll go for you both. Oh my god," Evelyn said. Marlowe finally managed to get his wrist free and replaced one arm around Caiti, low on her waist, and the other, he shook out and then wrapped around Evelyn shoulders, giving her a little pat.

Sure enough, the dog swerved – it's speed impressive for something of its size and weight – and headed for the space with greater probability of a capture.

Eline crossed the gold line without a scratch, and bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. Meanwhile, the dog had just reached Sean and Oscar. It lunged and Sean had to drop and roll out of the way to avoid it. "Impedimenta!" he shouted as he righted himself. This gave Oscar enough time to slip through the small space between the dog and the edge of the field. He had a clear path now for the gold line, but Sean had rolled back the way he'd come and was blocked again. He scrambled to his feet and tried to slip behind its back but the dog swiveled around and lunged again. "Impedimenta!" Sean shouted again.

The jinx was effective, but not powerful enough to make any real headway. Sean was forced to shout it repeatedly behind his back as he ran the remaining distance down the field, only sometimes hitting his target. He crossed the line with the dog literally at his heels.

"Oh I can't watch this anymore," said Evelyn, and she dropped her head into her lap, red hair, spilling off her back and onto Marlowe's knees next to her.

Marlowe left a comforting hand on her upper back and glanced at Caiti.

"This is crazy," she said. He couldn't think of any better way to describe it.

There was little to no break between the time Sean crossed the gold line at the other side and the time it burned green to signal the start of the second crossing. This time, he didn't hesitate, never stopping to catch his breath. He wheeled around as fast as he could, shoes slipping on the wet grass and he took off, trying desperately to come up with a better strategy than "run for your life" while he was running for his life.

No such luck.

The two dogs were approaching him at a much faster pace than he was, them. Sean's heart pounded right up into his ears. He had no idea where Eline or Oscar were at this point. The only clear thing in his mind was the completely useless fear response in his brain that kept repeating 'this is only two dogs, only _two_ of them.'

Then Sean tripped over a stick on the ground, and as he was tumbling down, the crowd's gasp was synonymous with his lightbulb moment. Recognizing his dilemma, the dogs both pelted towards him, their turns impossibly sharp. Sean scrambled up from the ground, looking behind him just long enough to locate the stick that had sent him down in the first place.

He whipped his wand arm around to point at it and shouted "Engorgio," before bulleting in between the two dogs as they crossed to meet him. Behind him, the stick grew to fourteen times it's size in a single second and became a full grown tree in five. One of the dogs crashed into it - Sean knew by the sound, because he certainly wasn't looking back - but the other managed to swivel around and sprint towards him again. He heard it's feet squelching into the muddy ground. Fighting for grip and blinking water out of his eyes, Sean barely crossed the line in time.

Oscar crossed the line a few seconds after Sean did, and immediately the line turned green. Sean's lungs were already burning in that thick, aggravating way that any sort of exertion in cold temperatures would call up.

There were three dogs now, and they split automatically, one headed for each champion. Sean couldn't help a moment's worry for the next round and every one thereafter, when the dogs would outnumber the champions and start to gang up on the weakest link, i.e. him, he was pretty sure.

He gripped his wand tightly, finding it difficult to run. The mist had turned into actual rain. He blinked the water out of his eyes. The second the dog was within his range, he pointed his wand at it and yelled, "Stupefy!' It rolled over twice and lay still, but by the time he had reached it, the effect had already worn off, just in time to put him in prime tackling location.

A quick impediment charm and a few steps to the side that put him dangerously close to Eline's dog (how had it ended up all the way over here when she'd begun at least a dozen yards to his right?) saved him, sort of. He pelted forward as best he could through the sloppy ground, shouting half-helpful jinxes over his shoulder. He needed a better plan. Now.

Evelyn was a basket case. She wasn't sat on Marlowe's right so much as behind him at this point. She had been inching farther and farther behind his back since the task had begun so that now, she had both hands on his shoulders to hold herself upright. Only her eyes peeked over, but not for more than a few seconds at a time before she hid them again.

"Ev," said Marlowe. "I know you're nervous and all, but honestly."

Caiti glanced sideways at the two of them with a smirk.

He reached back to try to pry her hand off his shoulder. Her grip on him was so hard that he could actually feel each individual nail digging into his skin right through his t-shirt _and_ his jacket.

"Sorry," she muttered, relaxing her grip ever so slightly.

She began to sink back into her seat. Marlowe looped his arm back over her shoulders and gave her a friendly pat, if a little patronizing, before he refocused his attention to the task.

Just in time too, because at that very moment Oscar shouted something - Marlowe couldn't make out what over the thundering footsteps of the now six stone dogs - with his wand held aloft. Whatever spell he'd tried seemed to have been exactly the wrong choice, because suddenly the ground gave way underneath him and the dog nearest him. Dirt poured over the sides of the now gaping hole, and the dog, though it clamored at the edge, was too heavy and slid down to the bottom.

This would have been fine if Oscar had not been caught in his own spell too. He gripped the edge of the hole hard and tried to swing his legs over the edge, but the dog grabbed onto his shoe and with one hard tug, Oscar lost his grip and crumpled down..

The cannon blasted again. The Beauxbatons crowd groaned.

"Oscar Durand of Beauxbatons is the first to be overtaken by his dog! Albeit not in the manner we expected. Sort of did himself in there, didn't he?" called out Mr. Catchlove. "But a valiant effort nonetheless, and a new obstacle for our remaining champions. We're pausing briefly to extract Mr. Durand and deliver him to the healer's tent and then we'll be on our way."

Marlowe found Sean and Eline standing ready at the near end of the field. Sean's fists were clenched and he kept glancing back and forth between Eline to his right, with her foot propped behind her, ready to run, and the gold line which had not yet turned green.

"Oh my god, I can't watch," Evelyn breathed. Marlowe patted her arm again, but this time it was a little less condescending and a little more kind. He knew the school would never let anything really bad happen, but it was hard to see it that way with Mr. Catchlove's oddly cheerful commentary and the line of stone dogs prowling across the field, angling for catch number two. The one that had fallen into the hole was restored to the opposite line: seven now and only two people, more than enough to corner them both easily.

With almost no warning, the line turned green. Eline shot off at once, but Sean was taken off guard again and fumbled. By the time he'd gotten his speed up, the dogs had merged on him, ready to pounce.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," said Caiti, gripping Marlowe's knee hard. "He's not gonna make it."

Marlowe had to agree with her.

He wasn't going to make it.

* * *

Slightly to Sean's right was the tree that he'd accidentally planted at the beginning of the task (the spell had been more powerful than he'd anticipated; he thought perhaps it was the panic channelling through his wand, because he had only meant for the stick to trip one of the bulldogs the way it had tripped him). Slightly to his left was the gigantic hole that Oscar had created. In between was a narrow path that he had stupidly headed straight towards instead of taking one of the wider outside edges the way Eline had.

He didn't know what she was doing to get past the dogs so easily every time, and he couldn't focus on her long enough to find out. What he did know was that she had somehow managed to be the first one to cross the line every single time.

He barreled through the little space he'd locked himself into, shouting blind impediment jinxes ahead of him in the hopes that they were hitting at least one of the dogs and clearing him a path through what was certainly going to be a clog of bulldogs on the other side.

Sure enough, by the time he'd arrived, they all had too. He had three choices, none of them appealing. He could jump into the hole, he could turn around and see if he could swing a reroute with the dogs at his heels, or he could climb the tree.

Before he knew what he was doing, his left foot was lodged into the space between the split trunk, and his right foot stacked on a small knob as he grabbed at the branches above him. He made it a few steps up, awkwardly, shimmying his way up the tree, which had a disappointing number of footholds, when he felt something tug at the back of his robes.

He didn't dare look down. Instead, he threw his arms back and let his robes get tugged right off. He was pulled off the tree in the force, but had mercifully landed on the other side of the clearing. He fell hard on his hand and thought maybe he'd rebroken or at least fractured it, but he didn't have time to worry about it, and his adrenaline helped him keep the grip on his wand.

On a whim, he whipped around, still scrambling off the ground and began to run backwards shouting "Piertotum Locomotor!" at the robes, which sprang up, animated, and wrapped themselves around the face of the dog who had grabbed them. Sean pivoted as fast he could and crossed the remainder of the field, sliding to a halt over the end of the line just in time. To his benefit, the animated robes had caused just enough of a diversion in the first dog (who had subsequently ripped them to shreds) to create a sort of traffic jam between the tree and the hole while they all tried to change direction.

He took three deep, rattling breaths as the dogs returned to their starting places, and then another dog joined the group, the line turned green, and they all took off.

This time, Sean tried to follow Eline, hoping maybe he could catch a glimpse of what technique she'd been using to be the first one across literally every time. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to work out in his favor, because now all eight dogs rocketed straight towards the both of them rather than splitting up in pursuit of whoever was nearest or seemed more vulnerable.

Eline shot him a dirty look as she sped up, hoping to lose him, no doubt. But all at once, nine dogs were upon them. Sean panicked. "Rictumsempra!" he shouted, which was idiotic, because stone likely couldn't be tickled. Sure enough, the spell bounced right off the dog, wasted. Sean had to swerve quickly as one pounced on him. He'd lost track of Eline again, but he didn't have time to worry about her. Nine rounds in and he hadn't found a single spell that was useful beyond a fluke and he couldn't rely on running much longer. His stamina was running out quickly.

A series of half-helpful impediment charms, stunners, and shield charms allowed him to sidestep all the way back to the tree, but his progress forward was minimal. He thought for a second about climbing the tree again, but realized he probably couldn't make a stupider decision and continued with his plan of alternating spells.

He made a little headway only to be backtracked by a sudden lunge from a dog that seemed to appear out of nowhere (Sean wouldn't have been at all surprised if it _had _appeared out of nowhere). He swiveled around, barely missing it and started running again, hardly aware of where he was going. The Durmstrang crowd had started up some sort of chant, their excitement tumbling clumsily over and over and gathering more sustenance. Sean only placed whose fanbase it was because whatever they were saying wasn't in French and it certainly wasn't in English.

Then he tripped again.

Not over a stick this time. Not even over his own feet.

He tripped over the concrete foot of large gray dog who had simply stuck it's leg out, a la first year bullies. It was a wonder that Sean did not crack his head open as he practically somersaulted over the dog, nearly managing to cross the line as he did so, but just before he could take the one awkward lunging step he needed to call himself safe, he was knocked to the ground again, and then felt a heavy foot pressing down into his upper back. He sank an inch or so into the soft, wet earth.

The far right end of the stands positively erupted in cheers: Eline had won.

* * *

Evelyn sat very still, gripping, now, the ends of the bench, instead of Marlowe's hands. All around her, the atmosphere in the Hogwarts crowd was nothing short of somber. They had so wanted that victory, had thought it was a given even. Sean had fared so well in both the last two tasks, and today - though he had not, at least, been first out - he had faltered too often. Eline hadn't had an easy time of it either, but she hadn't lost her head. Quick-thinking had gotten her out of a number of tight spots, and more importantly, she'd made a lucky guess early on and found a spell that did the trick.

"I can't believe it," said Marlowe next to her.

One of the professors waved his wand over the dogs, deanimating each of them in turn, and then the nurse was there, helping Sean stand up. Evelyn caught her breath. "It hurt him," she said. "His back." Sean walked very slowly over to the medical tent, not without help.

"He'll be alright," murmured Marlowe. "They'll fix him up before they announce the scores."

Though chatter had broken out all around them, it was hushed. No one quite knew what to say. The thought of a Durmstrang victory had never crossed any of their minds. Moreover, the thought of Hogwarts _not _winning would have seemed laughable an hour ago.

Marlowe wrapped his arm back around her and she was glad of it. She felt funny, but she couldn't put a finger on what exactly funny meant.

It seemed like an hour before Mr. Catchlove wheeled out the Triwizard Cup on a little podium, and, following behind him, Professor Osset stepped out to speak. He tapped his throat with his wand, clapped his hands together the way he always did when he was ready for everyone's undivided attention, and began. "Champions, if you'll join me a moment..."

Sean, Oscar, and Eline formed a small line on the other side of the cup, and when they were still, the headmaster began again.

"This is, truly, a bittersweet moment for us all, is it not? Hogwarts... you have helped me to graciously share our home for the year, and certainly we are all sad to see our guests go. I know some of you have made truly lasting friendships during this time, but alas, the third task is complete, the tournament nearly ended. All that's left is to announce the scores, and then, of course, to announce our winner, and bestow upon him or her the Triwizard Cup, which you see here beside me.

"All three of our champions did a superb job today, and in each event previously. I'm sure my fellow headmistresses will join me in applauding the work of these three marvelous students and, of course, the teachers who have helped them to be where they are today. One of my personal favorite things about this tournament is that it showcases the best talent at what I truly believe are three of the best magical schools in this world. We produce students of such high caliber at an outstanding rate, and each time we come together for the Triwizard Tournament we get to witness just what talent we are submitting to the world, year after year.

"But enough reminiscing. I know you're all anxious to get on with the results. So, let us begin by congratulating Mr. Oscar Durand on a fine job. Though he was first to be captured by the bulldogs, he made a valiant effort, and successfully made it through six rounds of the game. We award him thirty one points.

"In second place, Mr. Sean O'Connell who survived all the way into the ninth round, despite several opportunities to be taken out earlier. His ability to think on his feet got him out of a number of tricky spots, and for this, we award him thirty eight points."

"Oh no," Evelyn whispered. Caiti glanced across Marlowe at her, looking as nervous as Evelyn felt. Beyond Caiti, she could see Sean's parents wearing nearly identical expressions, eyes slightly narrowed, lips tight, and sitting up board-straight, a picture of focus.

"Finally, continued Professor Osset, in first place, Miss Eline Halvorson, who demonstrated excellent use of the simple, but effective banishing charm to clear her path and would, no doubt, have survived many more than nine rounds on this technique had the need presented itself."

Evelyn saw Sean turn to Eline looking absolutely stunned by this information.

"We award her... and I do believe this is the _highest _score we have awarded for any single task this tournament... we award her _forty eight_ points." He paused here, beaming over at Eline. The Durmstrang crowd was nothing short of raucous. Eline smiled for what Evelyn thought may have been the first time in her life.

"Yes, yes, an excellent job. All the judges agreed that Miss Halvorson's performance today was really top notch. But now, we should move on to what everyone is certainly most eager to hear. It is time, of course, to total the points from all three tasks and declare our winner."

"Oh my god," said Evelyn. "I'm going to be sick." Marlowe ran his hand up and down her upper arm, pulling both her and Caiti a little closer.

"I think he's gonna win," he said.

"Oh, don't say that," whined Evelyn. "What if he doesn't?"

"For the sake of a true surprise, we will reveal the tallies at once..." With that, he waved his wand and three gold ribbons appeared over each of the champions heads. They spun and twisted for ten agonizing seconds, and then, quite out of nowhere, stopped, now forming numbers.

There was a small pause while everyone read. Above Oscar's head, one hundred and five; Eline's, one hundred and twenty three; and Sean's one hundred and twenty eight.

Everyone seemed to realize it at once. The noise in the stands went from a murmur to a rumble to a full-blown cacophony in seconds, and then everyone was on their feet. Evelyn remained seated, folding over into her lap. "Oh my god," she said to her knees.

Beside her she heard Marlowe repeatedly shouting "Yeah!" so loud he could probably be heard over the entire crowd. She sat up, putting her hands on the side of her face, exhaling her shock and relief. And then, without much thought, she started shoving past Marlowe, pumping his fist in the air, Caiti, who had jumped up on the bench with both her hands up, and Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell, both with tears in their eyes.

She hurtled past the last few people in their row, into the spiraling stairwell, and down the steps, nearing losing her footing twice, and finally emerged at the bottom in a row of photographers for _the Daily Prophet. _She blew straight through them, accidentally knocking one aside and ran at Sean full speed.

She had only meant to hug him, but when she got there she kissed right on the mouth in front of everyone. Behind closed lids she could see cameras flashing everywhere and when she opened her eyes again, her vision was spotted and she had to blink it out. If possible, the cheers had gotten louder, now punctuated with wolf-whistles and hoots.

Her hair and clothes were sopping and Sean was half-covered in mud, but she didn't care.

With his arms still around her, Sean looked at her in alarm. "Did I win?" he asked.

Evelyn laughed, a few tears leaking out the corners of her eyes and nodded. "Yeah," she said. "You won."

Sean swiveled around to look at the gold numbers behind him, his spot now vacated. He blinked at it a few times in disbelief. Oscar stepped forward and held out his hand to Sean.

"Congratulations," he said. "I knew you would win."

Sean shook his hand dumbly. He didn't seem to have realized he should smile yet. She didn't blame him. It hadn't sunk in yet for her either.

Professor Osset stepped forward next to shake Sean's hand and congratulate him. Evelyn was feeling a little awkward standing there now, but Oscar, whom she had only minimally spoken to at the Yule Ball dinner and in passing, saved her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said, "You are proud of him?"

She nodded, her lips wiggling between a smile and a frown as she willed herself not to cry. "Congratulations to you too," she said, after a minute. "You did really well."

He shook his head modestly. "I did fine," he said. "I was not going to win."

Evelyn didn't know what to say to that, but she was distracted anyway, because Mr. Catchlove had just stepped forward.

"And now," he began, raising his arms to gesture around at the crowd. "I know you'll all join in me in another round of congratulations as we present our champion..." - he paused here for effect and when he spoke again, Evelyn could almost see him italicizing his words - _"with the Triwizard Cup._"

He lifted it from the podium and handed it to Sean as carefully and reverently as if it was his newborn baby. He spun back around to the audience and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the 2018 Triwizard Champion... Mr. Sean O'Connell of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

This time, the applause was deafening. Evelyn's ears rang. She could actually feel it in her chest like the percussion of a marching band.

Sean turned around to look at her again, his lips stuck somewhere between a look of shock and a grin. Oscar smiled at her, gave her shoulder a little squeeze and then took a step back towards Eline, who had been blatantly sulky the whole time. Sean lowered the cup, so it dangled from one hand. He ran his other hand through his messy hair and shook his head a little.

Evelyn stood still looking at him for a few seconds before she half-ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. Sean wrapped his free arm around her, fingers twisting in her hair. She felt all tingly and warm even though her skin was clammy and cold from the damp air. Sean pulled back and kissed her again, first on the mouth, then on the temple. He pulled her back tight again and, though he had to shout for her to hear, said "I'm sorry for earlier." Evelyn pulled away just enough to shake her head that it didn't matter. Her her head was spinning.

Caiti flew at them out of nowhere, knocking them apart. She hugged Sean first, then Evelyn - as though she had anything to do with it - and then both of them together. "YOU FREAKING DID IT!" she shouted at top volume, directly into Evelyn's ear. Sean laughed, looking over her head at Marlowe, waiting his turn with a bemused expression. Marlowe stepped forward, clapping Sean on the back and said, "You made a tree."

Sean grinned, but he looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah, who knew right?" he said. They all grinned at each other for awhile; there weren't many words for a situation like this. But Sean's parents had just shown up, stopping a short ways away from their little huddle.

"Hold this a sec," said Sean, handing Evelyn the cup. He brushed his hand over her arm and went to see his parents. Caiti and Marlowe stood on either side of Evelyn to take a look at the cup. She held it out for the three of them. Somehow (Evelyn had never stopped being wowed by magic) an inscription had appeared, etched into the glass, that definitely hadn't been there before the task had begun: Sean Tomas O'Connell, June 4th, 2018.

Caiti traced her finger over the words. "Crazy," she said.

"Crazy," agreed Marlowe.


	35. The End of Term Feast

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Five. The End of Term Feast

"I'm gonna make an announcement," said Caiti. The common room was packed and the energy was high. Everyone was waiting on Sean's return, which, following a very brief time to get cleaned up, a lengthy and overly ceremonial Champions Dinner, and a slew of interviews and photo-ops, was proving hours in the making. As his sister, Caiti had only just escaped an hour ago. She and Marlowe had headed straight for the kitchens hoping that the third time really was the charm and that, maybe, finally, they could get this dang party right.

Caiti stood up on the sofa, but once she'd sunk into the cushions, she was still shorter than Marlowe. She threw her head back in frustration which made Marlowe laugh. "Shut up," she said, and she climbed up on the back of the couch which was probably a terrible idea, given her track record for staying upright in any sort of non-floor-like scenario.

Marlowe must have thought the same thing, because he stationed himself behind her, just in case.

"OKAY PEOPLE!" she yelled.

It was probably only because she and Sean shared parents that anyone bothered to listen to her. "HE SHOULD BE HERE IN TWENTY MINUTES SO GET READY! Also, we're having a pajama party," she said shrugging. "Because I'm his sister and I'm in charge. So... go change, and then get back down here _pronto _and you'll thank me later because we're gonna be up all night." She jumped down and Marlowe's hand shot out ready to catch her but she didn't need it.

"Oh ye of little faith," she said, raising her made a second hop down from the cushions to the floor.

Marlowe rolled his eyes. "Pajama party, huh?"

"Yeah, just decided," she said. "Go change."

The party went on late into the night. There were images of Sean all over the wall, including one last return of the gigantic banner from the night he'd been elected champion, now amended to say "Triwizard Winner!" The spread of food had included chocolate eclairs, peppermint imps, and a large bowl of punch, but most of it had been picked over, so only a few snacky items remained.

Caiti had not spoken to Sean once the whole night. She and Marlowe had spent most of the party on the couch nearest the snacks watching Sean get shunted from person to person. Everyone wanted their turn to talk with him. Evelyn had been by his side for the first couple hours, but more recently she'd gotten pulled away by a group of girls who, by the looks of it, were pushing for every detail of hers and Sean's relationship. Caiti was amused to see that Evelyn seemed to be sort of enjoying all the attention.

Apparently sister and best friend meant nothing to anyone, because she and Marlowe had had considerably _less_ attention. Caiti didn't really mind. She was content to sit with him and pretend like she wasn't eating her third plate of crisps because, technically, all of them had been Marlowe's.

She grabbed another crisp off the plate on his lap and said, "Third time's the charm, I guess."

"Hm?" he asked.

"We've been trying to plan this damn party for three tasks and it always went wrong."

"Yeah," said Marlowe. "Really wrong."

She grabbed another crisp. "Well... in the end we managed."

Caiti leaned into Marlowe and tipped her head onto his shoulder. Marlowe rubbed his hand up and down her arm a few times, coming to rest on her elbow.

"Remember the Amelia debacle?" she said, a little smirk growing on her lips.

"Which one?" said Marlowe.

Caiti laughed. "Good point. The one where she tried to win Sean over with that love potion lipgloss."

"Oh," Marlowe laughed. "Yeah, I haven't teased him about that in too long. Thanks for reminding me."

"Happy to help," she said. Caiti yawned deeply and didn't bother to cover her mouth.

"You tired?" he asked.

"Yep," she said.

"Me too," said Marlowe.

Caiti nestled into his shoulder a little further, tucking her feet up on the couch. Marlowe lifted his left arm to look at his watch. "Quarter to two," he said.

"Is it rude to be the first one to leave your brother's party?" Caiti asked. "I'm fading fast."

"I doubt anyone would even notice," said Marlowe. "I need to go to bed soon too. I'm starting to feel pretty crappy."

"Yeah," yawned Caiti again. She rested her hand on his knee. "I bet."

Neither one of them moved for a while except Marlowe fingers on her elbow. Caiti watched Sean talking to an audience of first and second years. The younger ones seemed the most interested in hearing his story repeated over and over again. Probably because the older students knew Sean enough to know that he wasn't anything remarkable. But only she could say that because she was his sister.

"D'you wanna stay in my room tonight?" Marlowe asked abruptly.

"What?" asked Caiti, startled.

"You don't have to," he said quickly. "Just- I don't know. Evelyn's up there with Sean all the time and... I don't know. Just if you wanted to. Just to sleep. Not like..."

"I don't know," she said quietly. Her heart had begun to beat very quickly and her cheeks had grown hot. She hoped he couldn't see her blushing.

"You don't have to," he said again.

"I kind of want to," she said looking anywhere but at him.

"Okay," said Marlowe. "Uhm- okay... d'you wanna..."

Caiti took a deep breath and said, "Yeah," on the exhale. They sat up and looked at each other.

"You don't feel like... pressured, do you?" asked Marlowe, running a hand through his hair. She had never seen him so flustered.

"No," she said. "Just nervous."

"Okay," he said. "Me too."

They looked at each other awkwardly and then Marlowe stood up, holding out a hand for Caiti, and they headed to the staircase that led to the boys dormitories. Caiti hadn't been up there all that often. Once or twice she had followed Theo up to his room when he needed to grab something before they headed out of Ravenclaw tower for the day, and then there were the times she had brought Marlowe his potion - one of which had been explosive. Overall it was not a place she had frequented the way Evelyn had. The stairs spiraled up the opposite way as the girls, and she found it disconcerting.

She followed Marlowe through the door to the seventh year boys dorm and over to the third bed from the right which was unmade. The bedside table was piled high with stuff and his trunk was open, its contents in utter disarray.

"Sorry," said Marlowe quickly. "I didn't plan- I haven't been-"

"It's okay," said Caiti. But she was looking at the bed next to his now, Sean's. Even if she hadn't already known it was his, there would have been no mistaking it. Sean's space was pristine, everything folded and stacked and arranged just so. The things that he had left out were purposeful and organized. "What about Sean?" she asked.

"What about him?"

"What if he knows?"

"He won't," said Marlowe after a beat.

"What if he does?"

"Well... he does it all the time. We're just sleeping."

"Still," said Caiti looking conflicted. "Won't it be weird if he's like... right there...?"

Marlowe frowned at her, lips partly open. "Caiti, you really don't _have _to do this. I just wanted more time with you is all. The year's-"

"Almost over, I know," finished Caiti. "I want to," she said. "I've just... never done this before."

"Yeah," he said. "Me neither."

Caiti folded her arms over her stomach and looked down to the left. Marlowe watched her for a minute; she felt his eyes on her face. Then he took a step towards her and reached out with both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. She turned her face partway towards him, enough to make eye contact, and then she moved past him and crawled into the bed, patting the spot next to her. Marlowe tugged the hangings most of the way shut before climbing in next to her. Caiti laid back first, taking a deep breath. Marlowe flicked out the light and then laid down next to her, pulling the covers up with him.

Caiti's heart would not stop pounding.

"I'm so nervous," she whispered. She thought Marlowe must have nodded because she could hear the swishing sound on the pillow. "Maybe we should kiss or something."

Marlowe laughed out loud. "God, I frickin' love you, Caiti."

Caiti tried to hide her smile even though it was too dark to really make out each other's faces.

"Yeah, love you too, I guess," she teased, fumbling around for his hand under the blankets. She gave it a squeeze and let go again.

Marlowe rolled onto his side and she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out his outline, but not much more. He reached out a hand carefully, and smoothed her hair down before leaning over to kiss her on the forehead and then, a little awkwardly in the dark, on the mouth. Caiti was way too aware of the way his sheets smelled exactly like he did.

When they broke apart, Caiti curled up on her side too, and let Marlowe wrap his arm around her even though she knew she'd never sleep worrying about his arm falling asleep under her weight. She let her eyes fall shut.

"Caiti?" he said after a few minutes quiet.

"Mm?" she said sleepily. In spite of herself, she had nearly drifted off already.

"Thanks," said Marlowe.

"For what?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "A lot of things."

Caiti slid her top arm over him, hugging him as best she could while laying down. Her hand slid back to lay on his chest and they fell quiet again. Marlowe didn't say anything else, but the tips of his fingers drew circles on her back. She fell asleep in minutes.

* * *

No one else started to head upstairs until almost three in the morning. Everyone seemed to have the impression that Sean's win had been a group effort by all of Ravenclaw house and this party was as much to celebrate each of them as it was Sean. Even Professor Westwick had stopped by, late into the night, not to tell them all off for being up so late, but to to join in the festivities. It was only after he left around two thirty that anyone else seemed to have the idea to go up to bed.

Evelyn finally made her way back to Sean after over an hour as the circle of girls around her thinned. Sean still had a sizable crowd, but at least he was able to sit down for the first time all day.

He was in the middle of repeating the story of the task - which everyone wanted to hear in his own words - to the same group of people for what was probably the third time, when she came over. The second year boy nearest Sean scooted over at once so she could sit down. Sean put his arm around her low back as he spoke, glancing at her with a small smile.

The girls that had been talking to Evelyn began to squeal wildly and Evelyn turned pink, but looked rather pleased. She also looked exhausted. He was thankful she had waited up with him when her typical bedtime was closer to nine than three. She kept yawning, arm over her mouth.

"So you never saw what Eline was doing?" asked one of the third year girls whose name Sean couldn't remember.

He shook his head. "No, I couldn't watch her long enough to find out. It was a lot to keep track of."

"Tell us about you and Evelyn," said another girl, giggling, one of the ones who'd come over when Evelyn had returned.

A couple of the boys and even some of the younger girls groaned and some took this as their cue to go up to bed.

"What about us?" asked Sean, amused.

"She wants to know when we knew we were in love," yawned Evelyn. "They've been trying to get it out of me for an hour."

"Oh, I don't know," Sean said. He looked at Evelyn instead of the girl who'd asked. "We were friends first. It's different."

"That's what I said," Evelyn agreed, raising her eyebrows a little.

"There has to have been a _moment," _said a curly haired girl sitting next to the first. "Everyone has a moment."

"Not necessarily," said Sean. He glanced at his watch. After three AM. How was he going to politely excuse himself from the conversation? He wasn't going to last much longer. "Hey- I'm..." He glanced at Evelyn. "I'm really tired. You guys can stay up if you want, but... I think I'm gonna go up in a minute."

Everyone seemed to have been waiting for this cue to go to sleep, because no one protested his leaving at all. After all, it was an utterly ridiculous hour to be awake. Sean worked his way through another round of handshakes and congratulations. He heard one of the girls who'd been so interested in his love life say to Evelyn, "You're _so _lucky," and he felt his cheeks go hot. He was relieved that tomorrow night, all the underclassmen would be heading home for the summer while the seventh years, and the siblings of any graduates remained at the castle for one last week before graduation.

The goodbyes and goodnights and final congratulations took at least another quarter of an hour, but finally everyone had left and he and Evelyn were alone for the first time since they'd walked down to the task. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd still been worried about competing and now he was finished forever. In all the excitement and the constant attention, he hadn't even realized he could feel relieved.

Evelyn folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. She shook her head a little.

"What?" asked Sean. In his newfound elation at his luck, he had also found a new burst of energy.

"It's just crazy," she said. "It's so crazy. I'm so proud of you." She bit her lip and looked up at him. "You have no idea. I'm just-" She looked near tears, albeit happy ones.

"I'd never have done it without you, Ev," he said, wrapping his arm around her again. She leaned into him and reached up to hold the hand resting on her shoulder. "You kept me sane."

"Yeah," she said with a sleepy laugh. "You're probably right."

Sean laughed and turned his face into her hair. "I kind of don't want to go to bed now," he said.

Evelyn lifted her head slightly to look at him. "Okay," she said.

"You're not too tired?"

"Tired," she said. "Not _too_ tired."

"Mmkay," said Sean, pulling her into a hug. Evelyn slipped her hands between his back and the couch and squeezed him tight.

"I love you," she said. "A lot."

"Me too," he said. He looked over the top of her head out the window. The rain had finally stopped and the clouds had cleared leaving the night a perfect sheet of black on which to see the stars. "C'mere," said Sean. He stood, taking her hand and they headed towards the floor to ceiling windows that faced the mountainscape view from Ravenclaw tower. The couch nearest the windows was facing into the room so he slipped behind it instead. There were a few feet of space between the window and the back of the couch and he sat down on the floor between them. Evelyn sunk down next to him, knees up to her chest. The view, Sean thought, rivaled that of the astronomy tower.

They didn't talk for a long time. They didn't even touch really. Sean thought the quiet was perfect. It was exactly what he needed after the day he'd had. He was finally able to take a minute to process, not only the win, but the entire experience - 1000 galleons prize money included. It was overwhelming. He thought it might take a year to fully sink in. For now, he was having trouble just saying to himself, "I won." It felt boastful and exaggerated.

"Ev," said Sean finally.

"Sean," she said. She sounded tired.

He shook his head. "I don't really know what I was going to say," he said.

"That's okay," said Evelyn. She tipped her knees over into his lap and wrapped her arms around him sideways, pressing her lips into his shoulder. Sean ran his fingers through her hair and allowed himself - because it was so late and it had been such a long day and he could not control the things that slipped into his brain - one overly sappy thought that this girl was better than anything else he'd ever won.

* * *

Not a single Ravenclaw showed up to breakfast the next day after such a late night, but they all rolled into the Great Hall for lunch, pajama-clad and sporting varying degrees of bedhead. Evelyn preceded Sean into the Great Hall because, following the overwhelming amount of attention he'd been smothered by the day before, he was feeling nervous about walking into a room full of excited peers.

Sure enough, the cheers were thunderous. Evelyn put her hand on his back and gave him a small smile. "They're leaving tonight," she reminded him.

"Yeah," Sean nodded, but he looked very uncomfortable anyway.

"Come on," she said, and she led the way to where Caiti and Marlowe were already seated about a quarter of the way up the table.

"Mail just arrived," said Caiti, pushing a rolled up _Daily Prophet_ at Evelyn. "They did a late delivery for us.

Evelyn tugged the bit of twine off and unrolled the paper. Her face went hot at once. She reached up quickly to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear and left her hand on her cheek.

"What?" asked Sean, seeing her face.

"We're, uhm- well..." she said. And she showed him the picture on the front page: her and Sean just after he'd received the cup. He held her in one hand, the cup dangling from the other, and they were locked together in a kiss.

Evelyn had never liked the moving image feature of the magical world less than she did in that moment.

"Oh god," said Sean.

"What?" asked Marlowe, the mischievous grin lighting up on his face. Caiti snatched the paper out of Evelyn's hand and the two of them put their heads together to look at it.

They turned to each other, mouths open and eyes bright. Their shock quickly turned to laughter.

"That," said Caiti, "is _iconic."_

"You better never break up with her, Sean," said Marlowe, grinning from ear to ear. Caiti handed back the paper and Evelyn folded it up quickly. She would read the article later, away from prying eyes.

Secretly she kind of liked the picture. It was the fact that it was published on the front page of the most widely subscribed publication in the wizarding world that concerned her.

"Well," said Sean. "That happened." They all managed to laugh about it, but Evelyn's face didn't cool down until long after they'd finished lunch.

* * *

"This is _not _the end-of-term feast," said Caiti, pouting. She leaned over into Marlowe's side and he slipped his arm around her waist, laughing.

"Sorry, girl. You're the only thing I'd want to come back for. I'm over homework," he said.

"Me too," she said, looking glum.

Evelyn smiled at her across the table but she was looking a little watery-eyed too. She'd always been nostalgic. Caiti was pretty sure she'd cried at the end-of-term feast every single year without the thought of graduating to add on top of it. Still, Caiti felt she had the worse deal. She was being abandoned by all of her closest friends for her seventh year. She expected to spend all of her free time in the potions room.

"We'll come visit on Hogsmeade weekends," said Marlowe.

"No you won't," Caiti argued. "You say that, but you'll be busy every time. Watch. You'll have a game or something."

Marlowe couldn't argue with that.

"Maybe I could kiss you," he said, trying to pull back his old joke.

"No thanks," said Caiti. "I'm not in the mood. I'm too sad."

She glanced over at the doorway where Sean had gotten stuck by a crowd of Hufflepuff third years who wanted his autograph. He looked very uncomfortable and it cheered her up a little.

"You might need to go rescue him, Ev," she said. Evelyn followed her gaze to the door and gave her hair a quick shake.

"No. I'm getting too much attention already," she said.

"Yeah, what's up with that? I think I've had one person say something to me. Sisters don't count for anything apparently."

"Or best friends," said Marlowe. "But I'm not complaining. I've had my fill of attention for the year."

Caiti glanced at him with a weak smile. She saw Sean heading their way now, still being tailed by the girls who he responded to only with bemused and slightly terrified smiles.

"Yeah, thanks. Thank you," he was saying when he got within her earshot. The girls shot chatter at him shrieking, and giggling, with bubble gum smiles on their faces. "Uhm- no, really, thanks. I'm just- thanks. I'm gonna sit... okay. Yeah. Very cool. Uhm, okay... well... see you." And he zipped away and slid into the bench next to Evelyn at top speed.

"I'm going to go insane," he said, his eyes keeping a shifty watch over his shoulder to be sure the girls were actually heading to their own table. "After this is over, I'm going up to bed until they're all gone."

"Me too," said Evelyn. "I'm so tired."

"How late were you two up?" asked Marlowe.

"I don't know," said Sean. "After four probably. You two disappeared early."

"I wouldn't call it early," said Caiti, her face a little hot. She hoped he didn't know. "But we were tired and we weren't able to talk to you anyway." Sean gave her a funny look and glanced at Marlowe suspiciously. She cursed herself for not using 'I,' even though, technically, she had admitted to nothing.

Professor Osset stood up, the hush that spread across the student body saving her from further interrogation.

"Good evening, students. It is with both great joy and great sadness that we come together tonight, one last time, to eat, converse, and celebrate another successful and might I add, _eventful _year of magical education. Tonight, we say goodbye to one of the finest classes of seventh years Hogwarts has ever seen. And of course, among them, we say goodbye-"

"Oh no," whispered Sean, sinking down in his seat as far as was plausible.

"To none other than our very own Triwizard Champion, and the _winner _of this year's Triwizard Tournament, Mr. Sean O'Connell." Applause broke out before Professor Osset could finish, but he continued anyone, raising his voice over the noise. "I'm sure you'll all join me in another round of applause for this very, very deserving young man."

Marlowe applauded loudly, grinning at Sean across the table just to annoy him. "Yeah Sean!" he yelled. "He's right here!"

Caiti laughed, feeling a little of her apprehension drain away for the moment with the return of their usual banter.

When the clapping had finally died down, Professor Osset cleared his throat and continued. "Now, certainly Mr. O'Connell has been rewarded already for his outstanding performance, but I am under the impression that his win for our school is deserving of a few house points. Let's call it... Seventy five."

The noise at the Ravenclaw table alone rivaled that of the entire hall a few moments early. Ravenclaw had been neck and neck with Hufflepuff, but surely this last minute surplus of points had tipped them over the edge. Caiti saw a few people trying to add up the numbers and make sure.

"So now I'm sure you're all anxious to hear the standings..." continued Professor Osset after another long pause. "In fourth place, congratulations to Gryffindor with three hundred and eighty two points." There was a small smattering of applause, but overall the Gryffindors looked dejected. They had not come in last in a very long time.

"In third place, Slytherin, with four hundred and thirty six points." The noise was slightly more vivacious at this report, but the Slytherins too, were poor losers. They could console themselves at least that they had beaten their rival Gryffindor, and Caiti heard many of them saying so behind her.

"In second place... Hufflepuff, with four hundred seventy seven points." The Ravenclaw table were beginning to get worked up already in anticipation. They had won the house cup for the first time in any of the years Caiti had been at Hogwarts. "And finally," said Professor Osset, raising his voice over the presumptuous chatter. "In first place, Ravenclaw house with _five hundred and seventeen points."_

The Ravenclaws all jumped to their feet as if it had been rehearsed. Caiti saw Professors Westwick and Mason and the school nurse all standing and high fiving each other as well. Marlowe jumped up on the bench and started a chant of _Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw._

Caiti's hands were burning by the time everyone quieted down. She sank back into her seat, shaking them out but still grinning. Marlowe leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Yes, yes, well done Ravenclaw. Really excellent work to all our students this year. It's been marvelous. And though we're sad to be losing some of our number, I feel confident that our seventh years will represent Hogwarts splendidly out there in the wider wizarding world. Now, I won't carry on any longer. Congratulations, once again, to all. Let's eat!"

The plates filled with food at once and everyone began to help themselves to roast chicken and potatoes au gratin, asparagus, wild rice, dinner rolls, and fruit salad.

Caiti loaded up her plate, already planning to steal all her dessert from whatever Marlowe put on his plate when the course changed.

"What are we gonna do this week?" Caiti asked. "No classes or anything."

"Go outside," said Evelyn. "I heard it's supposed to be really pretty out."

"I'm not gonna do much," said Marlowe. "Not till after." Caiti glanced at him, knowing what 'after' he was talking about. She needed to make his potion on Wednesday. Sure enough, his skin had a sickly pallor to it and the bags under his eyes were too impressive even for the late night they'd all had. Still, he was hiding it well. This was the least irritable she had seen him this close to the full moon. She was glad he wasn't letting unfortunate timing ruin his last week at Hogwarts.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip, too," said Sean. "Although I don't know if Caiti can go. It might be a seventh year thing."

"When is it?" she asked.

"Wednesday I think."

"I have my apparation test," she said. "Again."

Marlowe looked surprised by this. She hadn't actually volunteered the information to anyone but him, who already knew, because she didn't much like thinking about her disastrous first attempt.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, through a mouthful of potato.

Caiti wrinkled her nose at his poor manners.

"Sorry," he said, but his mouth was still full so she didn't think he really was sorry at all.

"No, not really," she said in answer to his question. She turned back to her own plate. "Not this time."

Evelyn looked between the two of them in confusion.

"He tricked me into apparating once and now I get it," said Caiti.

"I didn't even know you needed to retake it," said Sean.

"Yeah," said Caiti. "That was on purpose."

They chatted easily for the rest of the meal, finding themselves interrupted more and more often as time went on by more of Sean's adoring fans who wanted a picture or an autograph or just a quick word. Caiti felt as exhausted by it as he did by the time they left the great hall. She was looking forward to having the castle in quiet for a few days before she went home for the summer.

They walked back up to Ravenclaw tower together, obnoxiously taking up the entire corridor by walking side by side with their arms around each other, Caiti and Evelyn sandwiched between the two boys.

"Crazy it's over," said Marlowe as they neared the common room. Caiti promised herself then and there that she was not going to waste any more tears over him. She'd done enough of that this year.

But one little squeeze from him and her resolve was already challenged.


	36. Seventh Year Week

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Six. Seventh Year Week

Monday at lunch, with the rest of the school officially gone, things were feeling a little stagnant in the great hall. Sean was relieved everyone was gone, but now the reality of an entire week with very limited commitments had set in. All he had left was one graduation rehearsal with the whole class and a practice session of his Head Boy speech with Professor Westwick and Jennifer Prewett, a Gryffindor and the Head Girl.

He wanted to enjoy his last week here, but it just seemed like so much time with no organized activities. Between school, quidditch, his Head Boy duties, and this year, the tournament, he'd grown used to being scheduled for every last second of his day. At several points during the year, he'd actually had to write "sleep" down in his list of to-do's in his planner so he wouldn't forget.

He picked at the last bits of food on his plate, trying to come up with a good way to spend the afternoon, hopefully outside. Evelyn had been right. It was beautiful outside. Above them, the enchanted ceiling showed a bright blue sky, decorated with puffy white clouds.

"Crap!" said Caiti, out of the blue. Sean looked up at her to find her pgymy puff - which she had been determined to bring everywhere with her, saying it was cooped up in her room too often - had just cannonballed off her shoulder and gone skidding through her mashed potatoes. She picked it up looking horrified. Sticky potatoes dropped off in large clumps, but most of it was too stuck into its blue fur to come off so easily.

"Are you _actually _kidding me, Edison?" she said. "That was so unnecessary."

Marlowe nearly fell off the bench for laughing and Caiti turned sharply to glare at him. "You paid for this, so you are partly responsible for his behavior. Help."

Just then, Professor Mason showed up, sliding onto the bench next to Sean. "Hey- oh. Wow. Didn't mean to interrupt a situation. What happened here?"

"Edison tried to commit suicide in my lunch," said Caiti, straight-faced.

"Ah. Luckily he was unsuccessful," said Professor Mason, pulling out his wand. He performed a quick charm to clean him up and then turned back to Sean. "Couple of the Gryffindors want to start a quidditch match in a bit, students versus Professors. Thought the two of you might want in," he said. He looked over at Marlowe.

"Yeah," said Marlowe at once. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Sure," said Sean. "Me too."

"Great. Probably around one out on the pitch. Just for fun. Gonna go see what other teachers I can rope in," he said, raising his eyebrows. He got up again and strode out of the hall.

"We're gonna smash 'em," said Marlowe, eyes gleaming.

* * *

Sean and the others gathered on the quidditch pitch a few minutes before one. Their opposition did not seem to have arrived yet and Sean could only guess that Professor Mason was having a difficult time rounding up enough of the faculty to make a team. Things had worked out perfectly for the seventh years who'd decided to play. No one even needed to switch positions for the game. Between Sean, Marlowe, two of Gryffindor chasers, Hufflepuff's seeker, and Slytherin's beater and chaser, the seventh years had a full team. Sean thought it was pretty cool, coming together with the people that had been their rivals. Even the Slytherins who he had a long-held grudge against, established by the fact that he was _not _a Slytherin.

The day was glorious. Sean was anxious to get up on his broom. He hadn't flown since the last match with everything else going on. They all sat down on the grass to wait, brooms lying across their laps or otherwise strewn behind them.

"So you're playing for the Cannons, huh?" asked one of the Gryffindors. "That's pretty cool to get drafted right away."

"Just as a reserve," said Marlowe, trying to brush off the compliment.

"Still cool," said the other Gryffindor.

"Yeah. You're going pro. Any advice?" asked Jenna Brown, the Hufflepuff girl. She looked at Marlowe with her chin down and her eyes up. Next to the rest of them, she looked like she'd been dropped into a cauldron of shrinking solution. She was positively tiny.

Marlowe pressed his lips together in thought. "Just one thing," he said, narrowing his eyes. "These people assigned us homework for seven years straight. No. Mercy."

Everyone laughed.

Sean looked up at the stands where a number of the seventh years had gathered to spend their afternoon. They had actually garnered a decently sized crowd for a pop-up game, given the vastly diminished population of the castle.

Pretty soon, Professor Mason and Professor Whitby, the flying instructor, led the other team out onto the field. They were accompanied by quite an odd selection of the staff, including Professors Westwick, Munslow, Poke, and Skiffins, and, to Sean's great surprise, the school nurse, Raigan Swenson, who was looking quite unsure as to how she had ended up here. No one was remotely dressed for quidditch. Professor Skiffins was least prepared in robes covered in heavy tassels and beads.

The seventh years all pushed off the ground, brushing grass off their robes and flexing their wrists.

Sean grabbed his broom, propping the handle on the ground.

"Afternoon, everyone," said Professor Whitby brightly. "If you don't mind giving us a quick minute, we'll just need to sort who's playing what."

For about three minutes they all broke into mass confusion, bargaining with each other for a different position. Sean and Marlowe smirked at each other.

It was finally determined that Professor Munslow would play opposite Sean as keeper, the nurse and Professors Mason and Skiffins would play chaser, and Poke and Westwick would try their hand as beaters. Professor Whitby would be seeker.

"Shall we jump right into it?" asked Professor Whitby, clapping her hands together.

Everyone agreed, mounted their brooms, and the balls were released.

Caiti and Evelyn had taken seats in the top row of the bleachers so they could lean back against the wall and prop their feet up on the seats beneath them. Up in the stands, the wind was stronger than it had been down on the ground. Caiti's hair kept flying in her face and it was driving her crazy.

"I feel like chopping it all off," said Caiti, glaring at a chunk of hair she had just grabbed in her fist.

"Don't, you'll regret it," said Evelyn, who was busy twisting her hair into a complicated braid down the back of her head.

"You're right," said Caiti.

The boys had just started playing with the professors in possession of the quaffle. Mason tried to throw it to Skiffins but she didn't even look at him and it fell straight down. One of the Gryffindors caught it and looped around to try to score.

Caiti grabbed all of her hair in a ponytail, holding onto it on the side of her head.

"I'll do yours next if you want," said Evelyn. "I've got an extra elastic."

"Please," said Caiti, looking sideways at her hair like it was a troublesome toddler.

She turned her attention back at the field just in time to see the student team score their first goal. There was no official score keeper, but Marlowe shouted out "Ten-oh!" with a huge grin on his face. Figured he'd want to win even this game.

Professor Mason had taken the quaffle as it changed sides again. He passed it to Raigan who, to her benefit, did manage to catch it (Piper and Elliot were seated not too far away and Caiti saw Piper stand up, fists in the air and yell, "GO MUM!"), but she panicked the second it was in her hands and threw it right back without looking for who else might be there to intercept it. The Slytherin chaser caught it as easily as if it'd been thrown to him intentionally and sped off the other way again.

"You've gotta _look, _Rai," Professor Mason said, as everyone flew past their seat. Raigan looked embarrassed, but both of them were smiling.

"You know, I've always thought he had a thing for her," said Caiti, frowning.

"Who?"

"Professor Mason and the nurse."

"I've wondered that too," said Evelyn. "I'm done. Sit down a row, will you?"

"Yeah," said Caiti, shifting down to sit in front of Evelyn so she could do her hair. "But it doesn't make any sense because she must have been married at some point right? And Piper's last name isn't Mason."

"Good point," said Evelyn.

"I'm gonna find out," she said. "I'll keep you posted."

Poor Professor Munslow let another goal slide right past him.

"They're dreadful, aren't they?" said Evelyn.

"It's kinda funny to see them all out of their element. Except Whitby, obviously." Caiti reached up to brush the flyaways off her forehead.

"Professor Mason's alright too. Hasn't he said before that he played in school?" asked Evelyn.

"I bet he did. He seems the type."

They kept quiet until Evelyn had finished braiding Caiti's hair. "There. Done," she said, patting Caiti on the shoulder.

"Thanks," said Caiti, looking behind herself at Evelyn. She climbed back up to her original spot and crossed her ankles on the lower bench.

Marlowe lodged one of the bludgers at Professor Whitby just in time to stop him catching the snitch.

"I'm trying to picture myself going to see professional quidditch matches and telling people I know one of the players and I just can't. It's crazy," said Caiti, following Marlowe's progress with slightly narrowed eyes. "I can't think of any of you outside Hogwarts."

Evelyn gave her a sad smile.

"I'm so glad it all worked out for him," Evelyn said. "He deserved it."

"I know," said Caiti. "This year's just been..."

"A lot," finished Evelyn.

"Yeah," agreed Caiti, stretching forward over her legs.

"Is it ever weird?" asked Evelyn.

Caiti glanced at her. Evelyn looked a little pinker than usual. "Is what weird?" she asked.

"You know... you and Marlowe. Since everything happened."

Caiti frowned. She hadn't really thought about it. "No," she said finally. "I don't think so. Only when... only right before or after, you know. Only when you can't avoid thinking about it."

Evelyn nodded. "I just wondered. I don't think... I mean it doesn't matter."

"I know what you mean," Caiti said quietly. "It never mattered. And I never thought it did. But sometimes I think I'm only just letting it sink in."

"Well... regardless. You win the best girlfriend on the year award, hands down."

Caiti smiled, a little embarrassed, but pleased all the same. She sat up again. "You know, I didn't plan on letting him kiss me at the Yule Ball? I kind of liked him, but I wasn't... I don't know. It just hit me that night how good he was to me. Sometimes I feel bad for saying no for so long."

Evelyn laughed a little. "I'm sure he'd agree with you. But I think the timing was probably best this way."

"Yeah," said Caiti. "Maybe."

"I'm gonna miss you, Caiti," said Evelyn out of nowhere.

"Yeah, you think?" said Caiti. "At least the three of you will be free together. You're leaving me trapped here on my own."

"Yeah, but you're my only girl friend," said Evelyn.

"Tell me about it," said Caiti, glum-faced. "It's just me and Amelia now."

Evelyn laughed a little. "Well... at least it's just a year. And we've got the summer for all of us to hang out."

But then they were distracted because Marlowe had just whacked a bludger, hard, straight at Professor Mason who tried to dive to avoid it, but miscalculated the curve on the ball and ended up flying straight into its path. It smacked into his arm and he snapped his hand off the broom handle instantly. Evelyn's hand flew up to her mouth and Caiti looked at her, mouth open in shock.

"Sorry!" shouted Marlowe, sort of laughing, sort of grimacing.

"Uh oh," she said, turning back to watch the action. Professor Mason was gripping onto the broom with no hands, holding his injured arm in his hand. He wore an expression that Caiti had not expected to see: a bemused smile. Raigan flew unsteadily over to him, pulling out her wand. She mended it in an instant and they gave each other a significant look, although Caiti didn't know what it could have meant.

"See," she said. "There's totally something there."

All Evelyn said was, "I think he broke his arm."

With the injury already treated, they both decided it was a great joke. Caiti couldn't wait to tease Marlowe about it. He had dirt on her so much more often.

* * *

By Wednesday, Marlowe had decided the castle was impossibly quiet. Minus the better part of six classes, the sheer mass of space seemed wasteful. It felt so strange to walk through the corridors and not have to dodge an accidental spell or pretend you hadn't heard the supposed-to-be-private conversation happening two feet away between a couple of hormone-ridden fourth years dealing with their first relationship. The great hall was the worst. It just didn't feel right to be able to take your pick of seats at the long house tables or to be able to hear each other talking in an appropriate "indoor" voice, as his mom used to call it. There just wasn't enough noise.

Still, Marlowe was feeling nostalgic.

He, Sean, and Evelyn sat at one of the little study tables along the perimeter of the common room with no homework to do for probably the first time ever. Caiti had not woken up yet and he had a feeling she had not been kidding when she said she was going to sleep in until noon.

Evelyn sat sideways with her legs over the arm of her chair. She was chewing Droobles Best Blowing Gum which Marlowe thought was pretty brave. He'd always been too afraid of the possibility of filling the entire room with bubbles by accident. His dad had warned him it would happen when he was a kid and though Marlowe was pretty sure he'd been exaggerating to convince his son that he didn't want gum as much as he thought he did, he couldn't get rid of the mental image of shoving through a room full of giant, unpoppable, blue bubbles and emerging a sticky mess.

"Do you guys wanna walk around or something?" asked Sean. "I'm bored of the common room already."

"Walk around where?" asked Marlowe.

"I kinda wanna walk through the whole thing," said Evelyn. "Just to see it all again."

"Not like we don't have the time," said Sean.

"Sure," Marlowe agreed. "Why not."

"Let's start at the seventh floor," said Evelyn as they made their way out of the common room. "And work down."

They climbed the staircase up to the seventh floor and started their leisurely stroll down the corridor. They hadn't been at it long when they stumbled across Elliot, standing against the wall across from a large painting of a very, very large lady.

"What are you doing up here?" Marlowe asked. Elliot jumped and flushed.

"Nothing. Just waiting for someone," he said quickly.

"In the middle of the corridor?" he asked, frowning.

"No. This is the entrance to Gryffindor tower," said Elliot, mirroring Marlowe's frown.

"Really," said Marlowe. "Where's the door though?"

"Right in front of you, stupid," said Elliot giving Marlowe a look like he couldn't have been more dim if he tried. In front of him was the painting of the Fat Lady.

"She's the door?" he asked.

The Fat Lady scoffed at his ignorance and rolled her eyes.

"Hm. Never knew that." said Sean.

"What other first years are still here anyway?" Marlowe said, turning back to Elliot.

Then the portrait swung open, nearly knocking over Evelyn, who stood nearest. "Oh!" she said, stepping backwards just in time.

Behind the portrait wasn't so much a door as a large hole in the wall through which a young, dark-haired girl was climbing through.

"Hi, Elliot- oh," she stopped quickly, alarmed by the sight of Sean.

"Hi, Piper," said Elliot quietly. "Sorry. My brother showed up."

Marlowe couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He knew Piper. He didn't think she knew who he was, but everyone knew Piper. She was the nurse's kid. She'd been around the castle long before her first year. He was pretty sure the Hufflepuff girl he'd dated for a minute several years back had actually babysat her at some point.

"Didn't know you had a girlfriend, dude," Marlowe teased. "This is where you've been disappearing to all the time?"

"_Stop," _whined Elliot.

"Well," said a shrill voice from behind the open portrait. "Are you going to shut me or not?"

Piper hurried to shut the portrait again. She kept looking at Sean out the corner of her eye.

"Well," said Evelyn. "We were just passing by. We'll get going again."

Elliot looked ready to worship her.

Reluctantly, Marlowe said goodbye and followed his friends down the corridor, waiting until they were safely out of earshot to say, "_That's _why he's been acting so weird. He's got a girlfriend."

"I don't think she's his _girlfriend, _Marlowe. They're eleven. They're probably just friends," said Evelyn.

"Did you see how red his face got when he saw us?" Marlowe asked, raising an eyebrow at her skepticism.

"Did you see how red her face got when she saw me?" asked Sean, shaking his head. "How long d'you think this is gonna last?"

"You're down in history man," said Marlowe with a laugh. "I think you're in it for the long haul."

"Oh, don't," said Evelyn, giving him a side-eyed glare. "It'll die down soon enough."

They headed back down the stairs to the sixth floor. "Let's go in the trophy room," said Evelyn. "I bet the cup's there."

The room was dark when they entered and no one could find the light switch.

"Lumos," said Sean, lighting the tip of his wand. "Ah-" There were no ordinary lights, but Marlowe spotted a sort of medieval candelabra hanging from the ceiling. Sean lit a flame in it with another wave of his wand and they began to move slowly around the room, skimming over various Special Awards for Services to the School, Gobstones Championship Plaques, and a large but mostly empty sign with the names of all the students who'd ever received O's on seven or more N.E.W.T.'s etched in.

Marlowe laughed when he saw that one. "I'd be lucky to get an O on one."

"What about defense against the dark arts?" asked Evelyn.

He shrugged and said, "Maybe," but really he was flattered she thought he was that good. He expected A's and E's in most of his subjects.

"Look," said Sean. He stood a little further away along the narrower wall. In a large glass case, three cups stood side by side. On the left was the Quidditch Cup, currently displaying a bronze Raven, it's wings wrapped around the stem, and a double row of tiny sapphire's along the rim and the base to celebrate Ravenclaw's win. At center was the house cup, similarly decorated, but with "Ravenclaw House" carved into the stone in large, capital letters. Finally, to the right of the house cup, was the glass and antique silver Triwizard Cup with Sean's name on it.

The three of them stood side by side, looking at their year's efforts. "Big year for Ravenclaw, wasn't it?" said Marlowe.

"Huge," agreed Evelyn. Marlowe saw her slip her arm around Sean and give him a little squeeze.

When they had finished their loop around the perimeter of the trophy room, they started back out the door to the corridor, extinguishing the lamp behind them. It hissed and smoke spilled over the edge in a thin stream, clouding up the air until the heavy door fell shut behind them.

Out in the hall again, Marlowe heard a cackle that was all too familiar. "Peeves," he said in a low voice. "Hang on. I've got an idea." He began to sneak down the hallway, taking care not to step too loudly, and kept his eye out for the Poltergeist, hoping he would be too distracted by enjoying whatever mischief he'd just performed to notice them coming.

Peeves came into view at a fork in the hall leading to a small alcove and Marlowe saw that he had just upset several planters and turned all the paintings upside down so that their inhabitants had all fallen on their heads. In the one Marlowe could see best from his mostly hidden vantage point, several balding monks were rubbing bruises on their heads as they attempted to dislodge themselves from underneath the wooden table that was now cracked in half atop them.

"You think Peeves has ever been pranked?" he asked quietly.

"Doubt it," said Sean. "Hard to catch a prankster."

Evelyn pursed her lips like she was already thinking she had better not let this happen as a prefect, but couldn't think what to say to stop him. Marlowe wouldn't have cared anyway. It wasn't like he was going to lose them any house points anymore. He lifted his wand slowly, trying his hardest to take aim at Peeves. He made himself a difficult target as he was spiraling around the room, belly-laughing at his own joke.

Finally, he stopped to have a rude word with an old woman who was flailing around trying to find her feet again. The poor thing had her bloomers out for the world to see as the cage under her gigantic dress had come down over her head and trapped her. Marlowe took his chance. _"Langlock,_" he said, with a complicated maneuver of his wand. Peeves babbling was cut off mid-word as his tongue affixed itself to the roof of his mouth.

_"Rictumsempra!"_ Marlowe added for good measure. He stood by to enjoy his handiwork, but only briefly, then he looked at his friends and said, "Run."

They did not need to be asked twice. Giggling like mad - albeit in an odd, choking sort of a way due to the state of his tongue - Peeves had flown at the three of them the moment he spotted his attacker. He began pulling small objects off the tall tables spaced every so often along the walls and chucking them at the backs of their heads.

Evelyn squealed as something bounced dangerously close to her ankle. They hurtled towards the grand staircase to try and make an escape to the fifth floor, but just as they reached the landing, the staircase going down began to groan with the telltale scraping sound that meant it was about to move.

Marlowe slowed, already planning a different way out, but Evelyn shoved past the boys yelling, "Come on, you two! Jump!" She made it onto the staircase when it was only an inch or so away from the floor but Marlowe and Sean had to jump farther. Evelyn gripped tight to the railing in one hand and reached out to steady Sean with the other. But Peeves, no longer inhibited by the jinxes, was still on their tail and now they had nowhere to go except where the staircase took them.

Sean whipped out his wand and, with impressive aim, said _"Petrificus Totalus." _Peeves' limbs snapped to his sides and he began to roll over lazily in mid-air unable to move a muscle. The three of them looked at each other and began to laugh. Evelyn sank down shakily onto the steps beneath her and doubled over.

"Who would've known Evelyn was such a daredevil?" Marlowe joked.

"I've- always wanted to- be on the- stairs when they were moving," she said, her words chopped up by laughter. Her eyes were even brighter blue than usual and wet with tears. "I was too scared to do it. But I figured, it's now or never."

"Thought maybe you were trying to kill me since the tournament didn't," said Sean, looking down at the long, long, long drop had he not made it.

The stairs finally sealed themselves into their new position on the third floor so they had to backtrack to resume their tour of the castle. Their laughter didn't really die down until they had almost reached the fifth floor again.

"You know, I never actually used the Prefects bathroom," said Marlowe, as they took the last few steps up. "It's up here somewhere, isn't it?" He'd gotten access when he'd been made quidditch captain, same time as Sean and Evelyn, but it just wasn't practical. He didn't spend enough time on the fifth floor to zip in and he certainly didn't want to trek across the castle in his pajamas so he could shower in the fancy, private bathroom when there was one just off his dormitory.

"Really?" asked Evelyn. "You should see it. I don't use it often, but it's very nice."

They stopped at the fourth door on the left, next to a statue of a bewildered looking man. "Hey Boris," said Sean, and for just a second, the statue's expression shifted into a perplexed smile and then back again.

"White Citrus," said Evelyn, and the lock clicked open.

"How come the pool's empty?" asked Marlowe, eyeing the most prominent feature, of the room, a gigantic hole in the floor with a whole host of golden taps along one end.

"It's a bathtub," said Evelyn, laughing. "But no one really uses it. It's sort of out in the open, you know?"

"Why is the bathtub the size of a swimming pool?"

Sean shook his head, bemused. Marlowe took a poke around, turning on a few of the taps, some of which emitted, not water, but various colors and scents of bubbles. He flipped the switches back off.

"Imagine having that in your house," he said.

"Imagine having her watching you in your house," said Sean, nodding to the romanticized image of a mermaid just beyond the tub. Marlowe laughed, in part at Sean's joke, but moreso at the look of deepest discomfort on Evelyn's face.

A while later, they had wandered into the library on the fourth floor. Evelyn and Sean were having a nostalgic discussion in whispers about all their favorite study corners and the many books they had checked out over the years, but especially in the last year, due to Sean's preparations for the tournament.

"How many do you think have my name in the back dated the night before the second task?" asked Sean.

"Probably a hundred," whispered Evelyn.

"Sounds a little low to me," Marlowe interjected, thinking back to the stacks and stacks of books he'd seen Sean buried behind, only responding to anyone who offered him good luck in irritable grunts.

Then Marlowe got another idea. "Follow me," he whispered. He walked down the rows of books, searching for a particular section. He found it to the far right of the library, blessedly far from the circulation desk. "Either of you got a quill on you?" he asked, scanning book titles.

"Ha, perfect," he said and he pulled one down. The title read _So You're a Werewolf: Now What? _"Either of you?" He looked up.

"Nope," said Evelyn. Sean shook his head.

"Alright, fine." Marlowe pulled out his wand and said, "Accio." A minute later, a quill whizzed through the air, nearly smacking Sean in the back of the head on its way to Marlowe's hand. "Self-inking," he commented. "Excellent."

He opened up to a random page in the book and considered it. He settled on the simple, but sarcastic, "Hit me up, fam," and initialed it M.F.

"What are you doing?" asked Evelyn, looking over his shoulder at the page.

"Breaking the rules," said Marlowe. To the Hogwarts librarian, defiling a book in any way might as well have been an Unforgivable Curse. "And leaving a legacy."

She smirked at what he'd written and Sean peered over to see as well. They exchanged a look like they were glad he was making light of the situation. What they didn't know was that Marlowe was feeling worse and worse the longer they were out and about. Because he loved his friends, and it was not their fault that all he really wanted to do was lay around and wait for the night to be over, he was able to hide it well.

How much longer he could hold up the facade was the question.

Marlowe stuck the book back on the shelf with a little pat, left the quill on the table at the end of the row of books, and they crept out of the library and headed down to the third floor.

They stopped by the charms classroom first and had a good laugh over the time they'd been practicing color-changing spells and Sean had gotten distracted by Evelyn's newly pink hair. Instead of changing Marlowe's hair, he had accidentally given him a green nose.

Evelyn decided to leave notes on the blackboards of all her professors so she scratched out a short thank you with a remnant of chalk on their way out again.

Next, they headed into the hospital wing. The nurse, Raigan, was seated at her desk behind a towering stack of files. She peered around them when they came in. "Morning," she said. "One of you need something?"

"Nope," said Marlowe. "We're just taking a little nostalgia tour of the castle."

"Oh, no problem," she smiled. "Actually though, Marlowe, I needed to talk to you a minute, if you could come here."

Marlowe frowned but headed over. She lowered her voice so the others would not hear and said, "I know you've spoken with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before, but now you're going to be out of school, they want some more paperwork. Honestly, I think it's all a bit ridiculous, but you can't mess with the people in charge. Basically they just want every bit of proof that you are who you say you are and that, besides the obvious, you're a perfectly healthy and trustworthy individual who should be allowed to work and lead a normal life.

"I've read through it and there's nothing you should be worried about, but you can have a look if you'd like. Otherwise, you'll just need to sign in a few places. The rest of it, I'll handle. Medical records and things. This goes to the ministry and to St. Mungo's. Just in case."

"Oh," said Marlowe, taking the rather thick stack of papers she was holding out to him. He flipped through it all, knowing he should probably read the fine print, even though he trusted Raigan and knew she was telling the truth when she said he had no need to worry about it. But mostly he did not feel like putting himself in a bad mood over what it might say when tonight would be bad enough. He took a quill from her desk and signed and initialed half a dozen times before handing it back to her.

"Thanks," she said. "Lucky you stopped in. Saves me a trip running around to find you." She smiled a little. "You're all set for tonight? Someone's taking care of..."

"Yeah," he nodded. "My friend makes it."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Can I ask who?"

"Caitlyn O'Connell," he said. "She's really good at potions."

"Hm," said Raigan, her brow creasing. "She must be. That's impressive. Well, I should let you go. It's a big castle. Thanks again and good to see you, Marlowe. Glad you're doing alright."

He managed to smile. "No problem. Thanks for all your help," he said, starting to go. When he'd reached his friends again, he remembered seeing Piper back on the seventh floor.

He turned back around and said, "Also, I saw your daughter this morning. She was meeting my little brother."

Raigan laughed a little. "She fancies him," she said with a smile.

"Told you," Marlowe said to Evelyn. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Well... see you. Have a nice day," he called, and they left.

By the time they'd reached the dungeons, Marlowe was worn out. They'd taken their time sharing old stories throughout all the classrooms on the first and second floors, Evelyn leaving her little messages in each of them. All he wanted to do now was sit. He felt achy and unlike himself. His body didn't feel quite like it belonged to him, like his joints were already preparing themselves to change.

"Shall we go out on the grounds?" asked Evelyn. "We can stop by the greenhouses and the quidditch pitch, maybe walk around the lake."

"We could grab sandwiches or something and have lunch out there," Sean suggested.

Marlowe didn't really feel up to it, but he wasn't sure how to say no when the two of them were having such a nice time. He had been too, till the time of the month had caught up to him. They rounded the corner into a hallway that led past the potions classroom they had been through several minutes before and up to the staircase leading into the entrance hall. That was when Marlowe spotted someone slipping in the door of the recently emptied classroom - a flash of blonde hair and an unmistakeable blue ribbon.

"You guys go ahead," he said. "I think-"

"Caiti," said Evelyn, filling in what he'd been about to say.

He nodded. "I'm kind of tired anyway."

"Sure you don't want some lunch at least?" Sean asked. "We don't have to take it out."

"No, that's alright. You two can go. I'll just swing in here a minute." He smiled a little and they exchanged a glance before agreeing and continuing on their way.

Marlowe waited until they were gone before he knocked twice on the door of the classroom. Caiti did not answer it but he was sure it had been her who'd walked in so he twisted open the door knob and slipped inside, shutting the door quietly.

He found her right away, crouched in front of one of the lower store cabinets along the same wall as the door. She stood up with quite a few bottles of ingredients stacked in her hand, and then she spotted him, and she jumped, and they all went tumbling down and out of her grasp.

"Crap. Sorry," said Marlowe quickly, whipping his wand out to stop them falling. Caiti managed to maintain her hold on a few and Marlowe saved most of the rest with a deft cushioning charm, but one jar hit the floor a little further away and shattered.

"Sorry," he said again. "Was that important?"

"It's okay," said Caiti, setting the jars down carefully on the counter. "There's more of that one." She waved her wand to clean up the mess and knelt down again to pull out some more of whatever slimy something had been lost in the confusion. Marlowe wasn't sure he wanted to know since whatever it was was about to be in his mouth.

"I didn't hear you come in," said Caiti quietly. She bent down to pick up the three jars Marlowe's cushioning charm had rescued.

"I knocked," he said.

"I ignored it," said Caiti.

Marlowe's lips twisted into a smile.

"Here, let me help you," he said, coming to take a few of the items out of her hands. She'd been trying to carry them all at once again.

"Thanks," she said. He followed her over to the place where her cauldron was already set up and set them gingerly on the table.

"Is it okay if I sit in here with you?" he asked.

She looked up, considered him in silence and then looked down again and said, "Sure. Just don't talk too much. I need to concentrate or I'll kill you."

"Got it," said Marlowe. "You won't even know I'm here."

He sank down into a chair nearby, thrilled to finally be able to rest. Caiti measured out her ingredients one by one and sat in silence cutting, juicing, and shredding them as needed. She arranged each in a little pile, separate from each other by precisely the same amount of space each time. She'd been working twenty minutes before she ever filled the cauldron with water and set it boiling.

Once she did, she was nonstop. Adding something, stirring, resetting the heat level, adding something else, a little at a time this time, with six stirs in between each addition. Marlowe was amazed again by the fact that, complicated as this potion seemed, Caiti did not have the recipe open.

Marlowe thought she looked exquisite, bent over her cauldron with her long-lashed eyes downcast and her hair spilling over her shoulder, bright and gold even in the dim lighting of the dungeons. She had grown up a lot that year, he thought, in mind and in body. She seemed less girlish than she had in the fall. He didn't know if it was just time or if it had to do with everything they had gone through, but there was no doubt she had come a long way from crying over her ex-boyfriend as she had the first time he'd ever come here to sit with her.

Although he watched her for over an hour, and in all that time, she never addressed him once, he didn't feel bored for a second. Watching Caiti brew a potion was, for him, almost as spiritual an experience as watching a professional quidditch match. She was so in tune with it. It made him laugh a little to think of the difference between her in potions class - serious and precise and perfect - and him, fumbling over the instructions and always moving on to the next step too late. The only really successful potions he'd ever made had been the ones where Caiti coached him through it.

Finally she lowered the heat one last time and sat back. The table was clear of ingredients and the potion was a bright, acidic green, similar, but not exact, in color to the finished potion he was accustomed to seeing.

"And now we wait," she said, her eyes flicking up to him for just a second.

Marlowe nodded and they did not speak for another few minutes, both of their eyes on the bubbling potion, turning darker shade by shade as time went on.

"Caiti?" said Marlowe after a while. He wasn't quite sure if he was allowed to interrupt yet.

She glanced up at him.

"Thanks," he said. "It's- I'm glad I was here. I'm really grateful you do this."Caiti smiled a tiny bit. "It's okay," she said. "I don't mind."

On Thursday morning, Caiti came downstairs a little after eight to grab a quick breakfast before her apparation test. She had Marlowe on her mind, wondering how bad his night had been, so when he called her name, she was, at first, not at all surprised, but just as quickly became very surprised.

She turned around to where she'd heard his voice come from and found him seated in one of the plush armchairs near the fireplace. His skin looked pale and sallow and there were dark circles under his eyes. He wore a pair of old gray sweatpants and a blue quarter zip with the Ravenclaw crest in place of a pocket. She crossed the common room to him.

"How are you?" she asked, perching herself on the arm of the sofa next to his chair. "I didn't think you'd be..."

He just shook his head. "You've got your test?" he asked.

"At nine," said Caiti.

"You're gonna pass," said Marlowe. He sounded tired, but his tone was confident anyway.

Caiti smiled a little.

"You will," he said. "I just... wanted to tell you that."

Caiti stood up to go and hug him. His arms around her were not as tight as usual.

"Go get some rest," she said. "You didn't need to wait for me."

"I wanted to," he said. Caiti stood upright again to go. "You're staying in Hogsmeade a while when you're done?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really supposed to. I was just gonna come back."

Marlowe's expression brightened a shade. "Oh," he said. "Well... I won't be good company, but if you want to come up to my room... I'm probably not leaving all day."

Caiti smiled a little bigger. "Okay," she said. "I will."

Marlowe pushed himself off the chair and kissed her on the cheek. "Good luck," he said. "See you later."

They headed off in their separate directions. Caiti felt much better about the day already.

Hogsmeade seemed unusually quiet. She'd rarely been there when it wasn't taken over by five classes of Hogwarts students. There were a scattering of seventh years already, but for the most part, the village felt sleepy and restful. She imagined this must be how it was on an average day. She arrived outside the post office, where the test administrator, a round-faced woman with greying hair and shocking purple robes, had already arrived. There was only one other participant that day, quite a few years older than her.

"This won't take long," said the woman kindly. "If you'll just fill out this paperwork for the license, we'll go ahead and get started."

Caiti scratched down her name, address, birthdate, and other relevant, identifying information, and handed the clipboard back to the woman.

"Excellent. Well. We'll do you first. Whenever you're ready, if you'll just apparate right down to the other end of the street. You see the man down there?" She pointed. "Then you'll come straight back again and we'll get you set up."

"Okay," Caiti smiled. She took a step away from the woman, took a deep breath, and turned on the spot, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt her feet get yanked off the ground and then land again a moment later. She opened her eyes and found herself standing just exactly where she was supposed to end up.

"Lovely," said the man, making a note on his clipboard. "Now head on back."

Feeling confident, Caiti was able to apparate the second time with no fuss about it. She landed in the place she'd vacated only a moment before and the woman gave her a warm smile.

"Wonderful, dear. Now if you'll just hand me your wand."

Caiti held it out and she took it, tapping it with her own. "This will just ensure that any time you apparate, it won't register with the ministry as unlicensed. I'll file this paperwork there so it's official as of this afternoon, but, you're good to go. Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Caiti. She'd never had much urge to apparate before, even since she'd first done it with Marlowe, but suddenly, it seemed like the greatest thing she'd ever learned how to do. She wanted to apparate everywhere.

It was amazing, all the places she was now able to go in just a second, whenever she wanted. Or at least, whenever she was not at Hogwarts. She had ruined several articles of white clothing traveling through the floo network, which always left you inevitably covered in a thin layer of soot and ash. Apparating wasn't much more comfortable, but it was certainly cleaner.

She nearly apparated back up to the castle gates, but decided against it because she thought it might be embarrassing to flaunt it so soon. Besides, it was a lovely day out, so she walked back the way she'd come looking forward to a quiet day with Marlowe.

By the time she'd arrived back in the common room, it was after ten o'clock. She had taken her time walking. The weather was absolutely perfect. They could not have lucked into a better last week. Caiti headed straight up to the boy's dorm when she got back, knocking lightly on the door.

"You can come in, Caiti," Marlowe called. She opened the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind her again. The blinds were up and the room was sunny and bright, but the windows were down. Marlowe lay on his bed on top of the covers. He had a book open across his stomach, but he closed it, sliding a bookmark into the pages when she came in and rolled over to put it on the bedside table. "D'you want me to crack the window?" Caiti asked. "It's pretty outside."

"Go for it," he said, rolling back to where he'd started.

Caiti opened the window nearest his bed. The breeze fluttered in and the curtains billowed out a moment and settled again. She walked back around the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and laid down next to him with her knees up and her arms folded over her stomach.

"So you passed?" asked Marlowe, turning his head towards her.

"I passed," she said, a smile blooming over her lips of its own accord.

"Knew it," said Marlowe.

After that, they just talked for hours about all kinds of pointless things like what kind of candies they liked best and how many wizard cards they had collected as kids, which ones they'd been missing. Marlowe sounded exhausted, but he laughed a lot and seemed in overall better spirits than he had around the full moon at any instance so far.

Caiti felt so at ease with the whole scene that she did not even feel embarrassed when Sean returned from Hogsmeade with Evelyn, running up to the dorm to grab his speech for the graduation ceremony.

Sean looked startled to find her there, but he relaxed when he saw they were not so much as holding hands. He ignored Caiti completely, looking over her at Marlowe. "Feeling okay?" he asked.

"Nah," Marlowe said, shaking his head. "But I'll be alright. I've got company."

Caiti smiled a little too much.


	37. Graduation

ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Thirty Seven. Graduation.

For the first time in quite a few years, the Hogwarts graduation ceremony did not get rained out. Several hundred white lawn chairs were set up in pristine rows in front of the stage by the lake. With the Durmstrang ship absent after it's long residency there, Evelyn thought the black water looked sort of funny, like something was missing.

The graduates stood lined up at the back of the crowd in the order they would sit, waiting for the orchestra to begin playing the entrance march. As Head Boy and Triwizard Champion, Sean stood in front, followed by the Head Girl, Jennifer Prewett. Evelyn wasn't far behind; the rest of the prefects had been arranged next in alphabetical order, and behind them, the rest of the class.

She was sweating already. It was three o'clock in the afternoon and the sun beat down on her in her black robes and formal, pointy black hat. She wished they wore the witches' hats with brims as part of their uniform so they'd at least have had a little shade. Around her neck, she wore a deep blue stole for Ravenclaw, and her prefects badge was pinned to her chest. Sean was more decorated than anyone, with blue chords for his position on the quidditch team, and two medals around his neck - one for the tournament, one for being Head Boy - that clinked when he walked.

Finally, the orchestra began to play. It wasn't a tune she'd ever heard before, but it felt appropriately celebratory and it stirred up the emotions she'd been trying to ignore all day. Evelyn was not ready to graduate. She was terrified of life after Hogwarts. Hogwarts was all she really knew of the wizarding world. She had no adults that could help her find a job or introduce her to people who could help her get started, besides maybe Sean's family, if they were willing.

But more than the logistics, it was the nostalgia. Hogwarts, really, was where she had grown up, gotten to know herself. It was where she'd met her very best friends. She didn't like to think about September rolling around and the Hogwarts Express leaving without her.

They began to walk, following a complicated looping pattern through the people assembled to celebrate with them. Some of her fellow students were smiling and waving at people they knew, but Evelyn could hardly look up from the ground, afraid she'd start crying if she spotted her parents or Caiti.

She wished they could take a more direct route to their seats. She also wished she had been able to sit next to Sean and Marlowe.

They looped and circled up towards the front few rows, which remained empty for the graduates. At the last leg of their maze, all the professors and staff had lined up on either side of them, forming a tunnel. They applauded and shook hands with students they had known well and Evelyn felt completely overwhelmed. All these smiling faces and all this noise, but she didn't even want to celebrate what they were all here for. Graduating sucked.

Finally, they took their places in front of their chairs. Evelyn, along with the other prefects, sat in the front row. There was a large stage set up at the edge of the lake, and a podium decorated with the Hogwarts crest stood at its center. Hovering unsupported were four large banners representing each of the Hogwarts houses. The professors were seated on the stage in front of the banners and they clapped continuously until the last graduate was still.

When they had all sat down, Professor Osset took to the podium to welcome everyone. He was dressed impeccably in crisp black robes. "It seems impossible," he began, "that this day could have arrived already. I'm sure all the parents in the back will agree with me." There was a murmur of consent.

"It always seems to go by too quickly, and yet, here we are, gathered together to celebrate the _remarkable _accomplishments of the young people before me. My staff and I are honored that you have shared them with us for the last seven years, where together we have worked to discover the talents and potential that is unique to each one of them, and today, we've reached the culmination of that work. We prepare to send them out into the world to use the talents they've cultivated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I am confident that every one of these students will represent this great school well.

"But now, I would like to address our graduates specifically for a moment. One of things I - and I'm certain my teachers can attest to this as well - one of the things I will miss the most about this class _in particular... _is the sense of camaraderie, community, and support that you all share with each other. I do not often get the benefit of seeing you all in class. Unfortunately, those of you I spend most time with are the troublemakers," he said, with a little grin and a raise of his eyebrows. Several people laughed.

"But I watch you all from afar. I see you together in the Great Hall, supporting your teams at quidditch matches and, of course, supporting your peer as he performed in the Triwizard Tournament. I think that ability to come together sets you all apart. It made you, really, an ideal class of seventh years. You were ready-made role models.

"You see, the Wizarding World beyond Hogwarts is larger by far than the little community we have here, and yet it is not so large at all in the grand scheme of the world. Muggles, of course, far outnumber us. Because of that, it is _essential _that we as witches and wizards do not let our differences come between us. Magic is not the answer to every problem. We have all studied the wizarding wars here... We know that our society, however great, however wonderful, is not any less susceptible to fracture. Perhaps it is even more susceptible, because there are so few of us. It may be easier then, for our differences to get out of hand, to overwhelm our peaceful coexistence with our neighbors.

"As we all know, this year has been punctuated by some events in the news which have at their root an attempt to sabotage the peace between our world and the muggle world. You are entering the ranks of wizards at a time where tension is building between us and I urge you to continue with what you have been developing here: to continue to find ways to come together and support one another. Do not let your superiors take that away from you, because now more than ever the wizarding community needs to stand together and hold each other up, lest we find ourselves in the middle of another war which is, certainly, the last thing any of us wants.

"Some may disagree with me, but I am of the opinion that our youth are the beacons of change. At Hogwarts, we have done our best to give you a foundation through education, but now I believe you are the vessels upon which the magical community will work to strengthen its foundation. If ever there was a class to do it, I believe it is this one. So I leave you with a challenge, and I do so because I believe you capable. I challenge you to be a part of the change, a part of the _solution. _We've given you the tools. _Use them._

"Congratulations to each and every one of you as we send you off today. May you continue to learn and grow as you have proven yourselves capable of every single day for the past seven years. It has been wonderful to share this place with you and we hope you'll return to us someday in the future."

Everyone began to clap and Evelyn joined in too, feeling a pressure already building up behind her eyes and nose. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering where Marlowe was sitting, but she could not find him among the sea of black robes and hats.

"And now," said Professor Osset, as the applause died down. "I'd like to introduce our Head Girl, Miss Jennifer Prewett and Head Boy, Sean O'Connell."

There was more polite applause as Sean and Jenny walked up to the stage. Jenny replaced Professor Osset behind the podium first and began to speak. Evelyn found it hard to pay attention, watching Sean standing just behind her with his speech folded up in his hands. He deliberately avoided making eye contact with her or anyone else and she didn't blame him. Most of the other prefects had been disappointed when they weren't made Head Girl or Boy, but Evelyn had been relieved. She didn't consider herself the speech-making type. Sean didn't like it much either, but he, at least, could fake it.

Evelyn caught very little of Jenny's speech, mind swimming between how hot she felt in her robes and how much she did not want this day to be happening. She watched Sean or the rippling, black surface of the lake intermittently only snapping back to attention when everyone began to applaud. Sean shook Jenny's hand, grinning at her, and then he took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone.

"I did something pretty cool this week," began Sean.

A smattering of applause broke out and a couple people whistled and hollered.

Sean let out a small laugh. "I'm not actually talking about the Triwizard Tournament," he clarified, leaning forward into the microphone.

There was another smattering, this time of polite laughter.

"See, Monday at lunch. My best friend Marlowe and I got an offer to play a pop-up game of quidditch with some of the other seventh years from the house teams. Students versus professors. We won. Marlowe might've accidentally broken Professor Mason's arm in the process, but we won."

Another little gust of laughter. Evelyn couldn't stop smiling, but she also couldn't suppress the rapidly worsening urge to burst into tears.

"The win isn't what I want to talk about though. See, that game got me thinking about the way we start out at Hogwarts. The very first time all of us boarded the Hogwarts Express and walked into the Great Hall, soaking wet from a pretty rainy journey across the lake... we all walked in together. One big class.

"Obviously we were sorted immediately after, and for the last seven years, we've all been convinced our own houses are the best. They're where most of our friends are, they're who we go to class with, who we share dormitories with, who we sit with at meals. Our houses are a huge part of the Hogwarts experience. Being sorted puts us around the people who think like us, who will understand us and help us grow the most. It helps us recognize and celebrate our differences. And our houses shape everything from what we know about the castle to which professors we get to know best to what color we start buying all of our things in. You don't know how much blue there is in my wardrobe now."

The laughter was growing a little more real with each little joke and Evelyn's eyes were now brimming with tears, just about ready to spill over.

"But even though we're split up a lot of the time and even though we develop rivalries and make jokes about each other... we're still one class. I think I sometimes forgot that, but that quidditch match.. Even if it was just for fun, just a way to pass the time this week in our brief little interlude between school and the real world, it reminded me that we're not really that separate at all.

"Besides Marlowe, no one I was playing with on Monday was from my own house. All of them were people I had played _against_ for years, had wanted to beat, and all the sudden we had come together and even after seven years pretending we weren't on the same team, we were able to work together as one big team and win. It wasn't just those of us on the field either. Most of the class was out there watching, and for the first time in four years, every one of us was cheering for the same team.

"Out in the world, it's not going to matter if I'm a Ravenclaw and you're a Slytherin, or a Gryffindor, or a Hufflepuff, or even another Ravenclaw. It's going to matter that we went to Hogwarts and we learned here and grew up here and we did that together.

"We came to Hogwarts together, and regardless of what house we were put into on September 1st, 2011, regardless of what color stole you wear today, we're all leaving today together, the Class of 2018. Congratulations."

The entire class rose to their feet and Evelyn couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into tears and the Hufflepuff prefect sitting next to her, gave her a little side-armed squeeze, smiling through her own watery eyes. "You must be really proud of him," she said, raising her voice over the applause.

Evelyn nodded, wiping under her eyes with the back of her hand. She'd never been more grateful for the makeup in the wizarding world which was _actually_ waterproof.

Sean walked down from the stage, passing Evelyn's chair on the way back to his seat. She couldn't help herself, and she ran a few steps forward, giving him a tight squeeze. Sean grimaced at her. He looked relieved to be done. She knew he'd been nervous, but he'd done so well. It hadn't shown at all.

Professor Osset stood at the podium again, waiting for the noise to die down again so they could resume the festivities. Evelyn took her seat, wiping the back of her eyes again.

"Before we announce our graduates," said Professor Osset, at he stepped forward again, "let us enjoy the overture prepared for us by the first-class orchestra who have joined us today, written especially for the Hogwarts Class of 2018."

The orchestra began to play again and Evelyn fiddled with her wand while she listened, trying to get herself under control. She knew her parents would be disappointed if she didn't get a cute picture with her diploma after she crossed the stage. The music was driving in some points and sentimental in others, ending with a triumphant fanfare atop a cacophony of arpeggios, and then, too soon, the headmaster had risen again to speak.

"At this point in time, I would like to invite our graduates to come up to the stage as we begin the diploma ceremony." Evelyn and the rest of the first row rose to line up next to the ramp leading to the stage. Evelyn's whole body buzzed. She didn't feel quite present.

Professor Munslow switched places with Professor Osset to announce the names while the headmaster handed out the diplomas and shook everyone's hand. Osset beckoned for Sean to begin and he headed back up to the stage.

"Sean Tomas O'Connell," said Munslow, as Sean received his diploma. "Head Boy, Ravenclaw Prefect, Triwizard Champion." The applause for Sean, as Evelyn had come to expect, was deafening. He shook the headmaster's hand and headed back down the other way, towards the photographer waiting to take everyone's picture as they crossed over into the real world.

Jenny walked next, and the prefects succeeded her. Evelyn tried to listen and clap for everyone, but she still felt like she was hearing everything through a tunnel. If she hadn't known she'd reached the front of the line, she might have missed her own name. At Professor Osset's nod, she walked up the ramp and met him at the center of the stage. "Evelyn Paige O'Sullivan. Ravenclaw Prefect," read Professor Munslow. The headmaster handed her the diploma and shook her hand.

"Congratulations, Evelyn," he said, beaming at her.

"Thank you," she squeaked out, trying to hold off her tears. She crossed the rest of the stage in front of three rows of her professors, applauding and smiling. She tried not to look at anyone too closely as she passed.

She managed to hold off her tears until she'd taken her picture, but on the way back to her seat, they came pouring out. Sean stood up as she neared his chair and wrapped his arms around her tight. He kissed her on the cheek and let her go again, but she wished she could stay.

In her own seat again, Evelyn tried to be surreptitious about her emotions (this was a mostly unsuccessful venture) while the rest of the class received their diplomas. Marlowe, in his typical fashion, made a big scene out of his own trek across the stage, punching his fist into the air, diploma in hand, and blowing it a melodramatic kiss. She laughed a little at first, but then it just made her cry harder.

By the time the last name was called, she felt almost dehydrated from leaking so much water out her eyes. Luckily, the Hufflepuff next to her was a crier too so she did not need to feel too embarrassed.

"Let's give all our graduates another big round of applause," said Professor Osset, and everyone stood on their feet to congratulate them. When it finally died down again, Professor Osset said, "There's just one last order of business before our festivities are complete... graduates, if you would rise..."

They stood to their feet, Evelyn clutching her wand. She knew what was coming already.

"Hogwarts Class of 2018, congratulations. _Now _is the time." And at that, they all raised their wands into the air and shot of silver sparks. They fizzed and sparkled up then showered back down over them all. Evelyn lowered her wand arm and covered her mouth with her free hand.

Then, Sean was back, pulling her tight into his arms again, and Evelyn let out the first real sob she'd allowed herself the whole day. All around them, their classmates rushed to find each other or their families, but Evelyn stayed right where she was, cheek pressed against Sean's chest.

"It's _over," _she choked. She wasn't even sure if Sean could hear her, but he ran his fingers through her hair. Evelyn reached up to pull her hat off and Sean took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her, one hand cupping the back of her head. Evelyn couldn't process any of it.

Marlowe reached them first, his hat and diploma clutched in one hand. He held up a hand to high five Sean and they grasped fingers and turned it into a handshake. Sean grinned at him. "Congratulations," he said, clapping Marlowe on the back.

Evelyn ducked out from under Sean's arm and hugged Marlowe tight. He seemed surprised because it took him a second to reciprocate. "Congrats, Ev," he said, patting her on the back. She pulled halfway back, hands on his shoulders and looked at him through wet eyes.

"What?" asked Marlowe, with a bemused smile.

She tipped her head to one side and tried to smile, but she was quite sure it didn't come out as well as she'd hoped. "I'm just really glad we got to be better friends this year."

"We were always friends," said Marlowe, glancing over her shoulder at Sean to see if he knew why she was acting so strange.

"I know," she sniffed, taking her hands back. She wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand. "But different. You know what I mean."

Then Caiti came pelting towards them, bright-eyed, but looking a little hassled from shoving her way through the crowd to find them. She flung her arms around Evelyn first, almost knocking the wind out of her, and then turned to hug Sean, and finally Marlowe, who picked her up and spun her around. "I hate all of you!" yelled Caiti. "You guys suck!"

"Appreciate your support, Caiti," said Marlowe, laughing. She glared at him and he set her down, but did not let go of her.

"I told you you were supposed to fail out and repeat this year," she said.

Marlowe raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't've helped me in potions and maybe I would have."

"Shut up," she said, giving him a tight squeeze with her cheek pressed to his ribcage. Their height difference was almost comical.

Evelyn thought she would gladly have traded spots with Caiti. Another year at Hogwarts, another year to put off whatever was coming next - that sounded perfect.

She stood still, staring at the wand in her hands.

"What's wrong?" asked Sean.

"Nothing," she said. She blinked hard and shook her head. "It's stupid."

"No it isn't," he said.

"I just... I don't know. You wouldn't get it. You grew up with magic." Sean raised his eyebrow at her so she explained anyway. "I don't know. I guess in the back of mind it didn't seem possible that any of this existed outside Hogwarts, you know? Like this is it and I go back to my life before."

Sean's lips twisted into a smile. "Don't laugh," she said. "I know it's stupid."

Sean shook his head and pulled her into his arms. "It's not over, Ev," he said. "This is real."


End file.
